Loyalty - A ganger's story
by Librarian Astelan
Summary: In the bowels of hive Kraskow lifetime ganger Parcivale Redford fights for the survival of both his gang and himself, which brings him across dangers and enemies, both ordinary and strange.
1. Chapter 1: First warning

**Loyalty - a ganger's story**

_Chapter 1: Raid on the Widow_

Parcivale Redford looked on his chrono. Although it looked battered and the thick glass viewscreen was covered in scratches, the stocky man knew it was precise to the second. He wasn't some stick-up-the-arse Administratum clerk who got a hard on for a correct time stamp, but in his line of work, knowning when to make your mark was just as important. The man pulled the sleave of his heavy black flak coat over the chrono and sighed. Still half an hour to go. He ached for a lho stick, but now was not the time. Instead, he checked his surroundings again. You couldn't be too sure down here.

Parcivale sat behind the tracks of a burned out truck, stranded on the sidewalk, its front half buried in what used to be a small grocery store. A whiff of smoke still came from the charred body of the driver, the driving column stuck in his blackened rib cage. Left and right of him, dirty and run down habblocks towered over him, creating a small hive canyon. Most were only six or seven stories high, but a bit further down the road a colossal support beam of Hive Kraskow had been the ideal foundation for a habblock that dwarfed those around him. Most of the windows around were broken, but Parcivale knew that the damage wasn't from today's fighting alone. Most of these habs were deserted. Only the most desperate found refuge here. Anyone who could spare a few thrones and had the brains to spend them, had moved out months ago. Which meant that in the darkness of the artificial night of Kraskow, only a handful of the dozens of windows showed some light. And most of those were decoys too. Those forced to live here, weren't stupid. Or they would have ended up dead long ago. After all, this was the domain of the Widow.

"Oy, Hammer. What are you looking for? Can't you relax?" Parcivale looked at the woman at his side angrily. She was smiling widely. Carefree. As if they weren't on the turf of the meanest gang of Kraskow's underhive. He had known from the start that it was a mistake to take her with. Even if she looked the part - cargopants under a pilfered Guard breastplate, a mean looking switchblade at her belt - Parcivale knew that she was in over her head. Janina. One of the new kids his chief, boss Nowak, had employed. She said she was 19 cycles old, but Parcivale only gave her sixteen. At best. But Nowak's gang, the Jesters, needed fresh blood. She was quite the opposite of the veteran with his wrinkled face and thick eyebrows over deep laying, dark brown eyes. Her face was still unscathed, whilst Parcivale's body, including his head, was covered in scars, although some were hidden beneath a neatly cut patch of black, spikey hair.

The girl kept smiling as she witstood his gaze. "There's no one around, Hammer. We could be having a tea party." She looked around, craning her neck, exagerating her movements, trying to bait him into another reaction. Just like any punk kid would do, Parcivale thought, but he also noticed that she didn't push it so far that she would leave their cover. Perhaps Nowak had had the right idea after all. To make it as a ganger on the sigma level of Kraskow, you needed to be able to keep your head down when necessary. But you also needed an attitude to remain standing among your peers.

"Just sit tight, Janina. Seems like that will be hard enough for you." the older ganger - they differed at least 15 cycles - said dismissively. The woman pinched her eyes and raised her left index and middle finger, an age old gesture telling Parcivale to flip off. The young woman hissed angrily. "I told you to call me Jay, Hammer." She seemed to take his refusal to call her by her self chosen callname as a sign that he didn't respect her. Which, Parcivale had to admit, was completely true. "Helluva name, Jay." Parcivale responded, grinning and shaking his head, his sarcasm confirming Janina's feelings. She didn't retort though and Parcivale took that as another sign that the kid was smarter than one would think at first glance. But he didn't doubt for a second that she would pester him to no end if she would know his real name.

Parcivale still didn't know what the hell his mother had been thinking. His name didn't fit in with anything that was used here in Kraskow. And it wasn't that the 'uppies' had such names and that he had just fallen from grace. No. But he never had gotten the chance to ask her about it, seeing as she died in a food riot and his father had left her before he was born. In fact, he knew almost nothing about his roots. If he had had to guess, he'd say he was from off world, but how would you explain his parents getting stuck in the underhive then. It didn't matter anyway. He'd been one of the few lucky ones that had made it on the harsh streets of Kraskow's underhive. It had earned him the reputation of a survivor. He was a tough as nails. Hence his nickname. And he was proud too of it.

Janina learned her lesson and remained quiet, while Parcivale continued his observation, every now and then looking at his chrono. Twenty minutes later, he spotted movement across the street. A gaunt face covered under an unkempt and dirty ginger beard came into view. Ripper. The last man of their little team had arrived. Parcivale gently stumped Janina on the shoulder to warn her of Ripper's presence. "He's here. Time to go." he whispered. Ripper disappeared in the alleyway he had appeared from and both Parcivale and Janina sprinted from their cover to his location. When they joined the man - Parcivale could smell the stench of grease and dirt on Ripper - Janina spoke up, once more forgetting her place. "So, what's going on? Did anyone see you Rip?" Ripper grinned so his crooked and yellow teeth showed. "Ya think I'd be seen by these losers? What do ya think? That they could teach me a trick? _Glypyd_ girl." Parcivale could see how Ripper's eyes went over Janina's body, from head to toes and back. He didn't like the ganger. Even if he was also part of boss Nowak's inner circle. The guy got distracted... a lot... and for the wrong reasons.

Janina was just about to mouth back at the man when Parcivale raised his hands, silencing both of them. Nowak had put him in charge of this operation and he'd be damned if Janina's youth or Ripper's lack of attention would cause it to fail. "Shut up." he said. Janina immediately did so, but Ripper started to protest, perhaps believing that his position earned him the right to do so. "Both of you..." he said, "You're like frikking _dzieci_. Let's focus at the task at hand. Ripper, is our access route still secure?" The man seemed to get it together and took out the dirty piece of paper on which he had scribbled an improvised map. "Yeah. It's almost as if they're counting on their rep alone to be safe. Didn't see a single of their guards on their usual location. Even their sniper's nest is empty."

Parcivale slowly shook his head. This didn't really make sense. The Widowers had just fought off a wave of at least twenty Raptor gangers. The crashed truck probably was collateral from the fight. At least Parcivale thought even the Raptors weren't so stupid as to use unarmoured vehicles to storm the base of the Widow. They had been stupid enough to start a direct fight with the Widowers. Boss Nowak had caught the smell of the upcoming fight and had prepared appropriately. After a fight like that, even the Widowers would be recovering from the battle for a few hours. The ideal time for a strike team to hit their base and take out the leadership. But even if they had taken hits from the Raptors, they should still have some guards on patrol.

"_Cherny, cherny, cherny_!" Parcivale cursed softly. He didn't like this one bit. Janina on the other hand didn't see the problem. "What, Hammer? This is making it easier, right? Or do you think that Ripper has missed a few of their lookouts?" Ripper was already starting to protest at the slight, but Parcivale lashed out at Janina for him. "Stupid girl. You don't think this stinks?" "Yeah," added Ripper, a bit smug, "doesn't your intuition tell you that much? Frikking useless _szeroki_." Immediately Janina was at his throat, pulling her switchblade, ready to cut Ripper up. A direct right from Parcivale stopped her in her tracks. The girl took the hit to the temple and fell ass first on the ground, immediately rolling backwards to break her fall. Bleeding she scrambled back up, still holding the knife Parcival noticed, and took on a defensive stance. With a shrill voice, betraying her youth, she yelled. "You think you bastards will get away with that? Boss Nowak put me in this detail himself! Frikking scrap scavengers."

Ripper had pulled his chainblade and stood ready to rev it. Parcivale tried to calm down. The girl wasn't as important as she made out, but Nowak would ask a few pointed questions if he didn't bring her back. And he might still need her. Neither Parcivale nor Ripper were any good with locks or cogitators and they had no idea what they would find in the Widow's base. Without wasting another second, Parcivale stepped in between them. "Enough. Nowak put you on the team, but he also put on Ripper. Do you want to explain how his best scout didn't make it home?" Parcivale turned and looked at Ripper, pointing at the chainblade. "And you scout? You want to alert everyone of our presence by using that here?" Ripper scowled, but didn't offer a retort and Janina seemed to have calmed down as well, putting her blade back behind her belt. Parcivale, reevaluated the situation. "Ok... So if you can both act like the pro's you believe yourself to be." he said, "Let's head out."

Ripper turned around on his heels without a word and started making his way towards the south entrance of the large habblock where the Widowers were holed up. Janina and Parcivale followed suit, paying attention to the route Ripper pointed out with discrete hand signals. They hid between heaps of garbage, in the shadows of porches and behind crashed down fire ladders. The three gangers kept their eyes open for hostiles. Ripper pointed out a few booby traps left and right from their path and Parcivale noticed that Janina paid close attention to his pointers. Which only strengthened his ambiguous feelings towards her. She seemed like a hothead, but at the same time she seemed clever enough to follow orders. And to be completely honest with himself: he didn't blame her for pulling her knife on Ripper. Even though the man had been part of Jesters for the better part of a decade, Parcivale always thought the man had certain ratlike qualities he couldn't really stomach. Always sneaky, always trying to pull in more than his share. And always hiding in the shadow of a bigger, stronger man and taking cheap shots at those below him. A faint smile played around his lips. If they hadn't been on a mission, he would have sided with Janina wholeheartedly.

Ripper raised his hand in the air. They stood at the edge of the plaza before the south exit of the colossal hab tower. Janina peered around Ripper to get a better look at her destination and softly whissled between her teeth. She stepped back with her back agains the wall. "That's a lot of open space, Ripper." she whispered. The scout nodded and pointed at Parcivale's feet. "Move over Hammer." Janina said as she crouched down next to the manhole he had been standing on. The lid had been welded shut - no self respecting gang would leave such a backdoor open and the three of them knew they could expect more booby traps. 'And perhaps finally some guards.' thought Parcivale as Janina retrieved some sort of compact lascutter from her pack. "Shield me." she whispered as she gave a piece of thick black cloth to Parcivale. They set to work while Ripper remained on the lookout for trouble. The fact that they hadn't seen any guards, hadn't given them a false sense of security. Quite the contrary.

Five minutes later, they all stood hunched down in a sewer pipe, barely big enough for two grown men to pass each other. Parcivale put a finger in front of his mouth, looking at Janina. The girl nodded once, but seemed fine without the instruction. Once the three gangers had donned their photovisors, Ripper took the lead once more and led them through the pipe system. Ten minutes in, Janina tapped Ripper on the shoulder and stopped walking. Parcivale stopped as well. The girl pointed at the wall and Parcivale squinted his eyes to focus on whatever she was pointing at. Ripper went through his pack for a stablight. Seeing how her companions had trouble discerning what she had discovered, Janina stepped back. Parcivale took her place and Ripper activated the stablight covering most of the light with his hand. Immediately it became clear what Janina had found. A ornate red symbol had been painted on the side of the pipe, roughly resembling an eight on its side. Both Ripper and Parcivale wondered for a second why Janina had stopped them for this. After all, this was the symbol of the Widow. It only made sense that the gang painted their tag in their territory. Ripper scowled and was about to stow his stablight, when Parcivale halted him. He took another step closer to the symbol and gestured for Ripper's torch. Something was... off. The tag was far more intricate than anything he had seen on the surface. And, now he studied it with a bit more attention... He felt like he couldn't, perhaps didn't want to, tear his eyes of it. But at the same time, he felt a bit nauseated, as he tried to read, or perceive meaning in the symbol, which consisted of dozens of smaller red signs: circles, loops, high gothic script. With an effort he looked away from the symbol towards Ripper, but the man was looking further down the pipe. They were an easy target now. Even the limited light from the stablight was more than enough to stick out like a sore thumb.

Parcivale looked at Janina and noticed how the girl had turned white. She was breathing in and out fast and she seemed barely able to avoid panting. She mouthed a question. "What... the... warp... is... this... Hammer?" Parcivale only shook his head. He understood, no he felt, what the girl was talking about, but he had no explanation for it. He doused the light and gave the torch back to Ripper. An abrupt hand gesture was enough to send the man on his way. Five minutes later they stood under another pipe, this one even tighter than the one they were standing in. A thin stream of dirty, rust brown water leaked out of it and both Parcivale and Janina didn't feel comfortable at all with the prospect of having to slither through it. But Ripper had already pulled himself up and was crawling away. Parcivale bend the knee so Janina could follow suit. When the girl stood on his thigh, he gave her a comforting pad on the back. She looked back, gave him a confident nod and went after Ripper.

Finally, Parcivale jumped up towards the pipe and pressed himself forwards. Because of the confined space, he had to keep his broad shoulders tilted, his left arm stretched out, while his right arm remained pressed against his body. He could only move forwards by pushing his feet against the sides of the pipe. Two minutes later, he felt how his entire body was starting to cramp up. He had to arch his neck to be able to look forward, but that became harder and harder. Eventually, he had to take a break. He could hear how his two companions proceeded and thus left him behind. But Parcivale told himself that he just needed a moment. He laid down his head on the bottom of the pipe and breathed heavily. Immediately he started coughing, having taken in a bit of the dirty water at the bottom of the pipe. He banged his head against the ceiling and tried to control the fit. But the disgusting taste in his mouth was too much and seconds later he heaved. For a moment he imagined he had drunk watered down blood. He could still taste the iron tang on his tongue even after he had thrown up. After a minute or so, Parcivale was able to calm down. The taste must have come from the oxydation of the pipework. No sign came from his companions and even with his photovisor, now covered in droplets of the filthy water, he could no longer spot any trace of Janina or Ripper. For the first time in a long time, he felt alone and scared. This mission was becoming more freakish by the minute. Nevertheless, Novak would want results, so he got himself in motion again and went after his companions.


	2. Chapter 2: Into the Widow's den

After another five minutes of crawling - chafing his shoulders, elbows and knees in the process - the pipe made a turn to the left and from beyond came a faint, shimmering light. With renewed effort, Parcivale increased his speed, feeling relieved. Ripper and Janina must have noticed his disappearance and must have waited for him. Pushing himself around the bend, he wanted to call out to them, reassuring them that he was on his way, but he managed to restrain himself. Attracting attention from the Widowers now, was exactly the opposite of what they needed. So he clenched his jaws and persevered. Only ten metres to go. Five. Three. He deactivated his photo visor. The light was blinding and Parcivale didn't really understand why they hadn't doused it as soon as they had seen him coming round the bend. 'Perhaps they are as scared as I am.' he thought as he closed the final distance. He grabbed the stablight and flinched. Nobody was holding it. It just lay on the bottom of the pipe and it had been rocking from left to right beause of the tremors Parcivale had sent through the pipe as he crawled forwards. There was no trace of Janina, nor from Ripper. Parcivale turned the torch around and shone the light down the pipe, which revealed an opening upwards another metre ahead. Although the sense of relief had been swept away by the disappearance of the other two gangers, the worst of the fear was behind him as he climbed out of the pipe. Within the close confines of the pipe Parcivale had had only one option: moving forwards. He couldn't defend himself, nor could he retreat. Now, even as the chances of encountering enemy gangers grew larger, he felt like he could make his own decisions.

As he climbed up, pressing his knees, elbows and hands against the sides of the vertical pipe, he realized that Ripper must have left the stablight down below to make sure Parcivale would take the right exit. He just needed to catch up with them. Soon enough, he came at the end of the pipe. The manhole cover had been pushed open and he pulled himself out of the pipe. He rolled onto the floor and immediately pulled his autopistol, just before checking his surroundings. The room he found himself in, was small and cramped with rockcrete walls. Numerous pipes and tubes entered it from the ceiling and the walls, although the one he had just climbed out of, was easily the biggest one in the room. 'A maintenance room for the hab.' Parcivale thought, 'But where are those two jokers?' His photovisor only revealed one possibility. A rusty, steel door stood half open and seemed to lead to a straight and narrow corridor. Before leaving the relative safety of the room, Parcivale found his silencer, strapped to the holster of his autopistol, and attached it to his gun. Then, he continued his search for Janina and Ripper, walking softly with his gun at the ready.

The hallway he passed through wasn't lit, but his visor showed him that the rockcrete walls were covered in tags. The floor was dirty and was littered with trash. Parcivale had to tiptoe around broken glass, beer bottles and ration wraps to avoid making any more noise. As he continued, he passed door after door, each one standing across the other, but they were all closed, so Parcivale assumed that Ripper and Janina had left them alone and had walked on. Some of the doors showed the symbol of the Widow, but Parcivale now knew better than to look too closely at them. Finally, he came at a plain metal staircase and without having found any trace of the other two gangers, Parcivale decided to ascend to the next level of the habblock.

The stairwell led to another hallway, although here the rockcrete walls were covered in cheap, ugly flakboard. They had been painted in a faint khaki colour once, but now they were covered in red and brownish gang tags, each and every one intertwined with another. And contrary to the basement level, the place positively reeked of blood. Parcivale felt the bile rising in his aesophagus, but managed to swallow it back. Everywhere he looked the oppressive tags sprung to his eyes and he nearly tore off his photovisor to be free of the sight. He needed them to find his comrades though. He took a second to get his bearings and at the same time he realized that it was eerily quiet around here. He should be hearing the cries of wounded gangers from the fight with the Raptors. These hallways should have been bustling with Widowers getting ready to replace the losses at the front lines. But instead there was nothing. Except... Parcivale could hear someone breathing, ragged and wild. He started to walk towards the noise, each step looking to the floor first to avoid a slip, his autopistol gripped in his right hand. He stopped at a door, perhaps a dozen feet from the stairwell he had climbed. The noise came unmistakenly from the room behind it. Parcivale pushed it open ever so gently, hoping that whoever was inside wouldn't notice his presence. But immediately that became idle hope. He was greeted by an icy scream, and Parcivale dropped all caution and stormed inside, covering the room with his gun.

The screaming intensified and something scrambled from the right corner of the room behind a worn out sofa. It was a good thing Parcivale was a decent shooter. Most of his fellow gangers would have just opened fire, but even with the grainy green picture of the room from the photo visor, Parcivale had recognized the lithe form of Janina. As soon as she was out of sight, she stopped screaming. And Parcivale closed the door behind him. Without moving, he whispered. "Jay. It's me, Hammer." The girl didn't answer. "Do you understand? It's me. Come out and tell me what happened. The girl remained still, hidden behind the sofa and Parcivale started to wonder what had happened to her in earnest. She seemed completely unnerved, perhaps no longer conscient that she was on enemy terrain.

The room was quite small, so with three large steps, Parcivale stood at the side of the sofa, looking down upon Janina. She was shivering uncontrollably and her chest went up and down in a rhytm which made the ganger suspect that she was about to have a heart attack. He kneeled down and took of his visor, grabbing the stablight and putting it on. The girl flinched, but didn't start to scream. He looked Janina in the eyes and saw raw panic. Her pupils were dilated to the extremes and she was positively trembling. Gently, he grabbed her hands and wondered what might have happened to her in the short time they had been separated. He didn't have a lot of hope that the girl would be able to tell him much. He was lucky already that she didn't make a run for it.

"Jay," he started, "Jay. What happened?" No answer. "Where is Ripper, Jay? Did he move on?" Still no answer. He stood back up, lifting the torch and passing over Janina's body. He noticed how Janina followed his every moment. He looked back, but still she was unable to offer him any answers. His eye fell on her shoes and the knees of the bodyglove she carried beneath the guard flak vest. They were coloured red, and this time there was no mistaking what it actually was. "Were you in a fight, Jay?" The girl remained unresponsive. Parcivale sighed and wondered what to do next. At that point, Janina raised her finger, pointing behind him. Panic hit him and he immediately rolled to his right, rotating around so he could cover whatever was behind him with both his gun and his stablight. In the dancing light, he saw someone, arms wide. This time, he didn't hesitate and pulled the trigger. His eyes registred a direct hit, right in the chest, but somehow his opponent remained standing. In fact, he didn't move at all.

Parcivale focused the light beam of his torch on the body and then it hit him. The man was nailed to the wall and had been dead for quite some time. His eyes were snatched out of their sockets and his mouth was sewn shut. The nose was cut off and someone had etched in each of the man's cheeks an ugly symbol. When Parcivale diverted the light from the man's head to his body, he could see that his clothes had been torn off and that his chest was one big bloody hole. The ribcage was cracked open wide and the white bones resembled the curled up legs of a dead spider. Behind him, Parcivale could hear how Janina started to sob. Parcivale couldn't blame her. This was worse than anything he had ever seen, and that was saying something in this dark underhive where most of the gangs took ears, noses or other body parts as trophies. But there wasn't anything Parcivale could do except going through with his job. And maybe that would also put an end to this awful business.

He went back to Janina, who was still sitting on the floor, her hands before her eyes, mumbling softly. He grabbed her by the wrists and tried to pull her up, but the girl kept her legs limb so all he managed to do was pull her against his own firm body. "No. No. No." she sobbed. "Leave me be. I can't go on." Parcivale let go of her wrists and kneeled before her, this time taking her face in his two hands, gently. He softened his voice and whispered. "You can't stay here, Jay. If the Widowers find you... who knows what they'll do." The girl just shook her head. He didn't seem to get through to her. "Look... I need you to come with me Jay. If we want to get out of here with our lives, I'll need your skills. I'll keep you safe." Parcivale hugged her. And lied. "I promise."

It was a promise he knew he might not be able to keep. And in all honesty, he would let the girl die any day of the week if it would save his hide. She was new in the gang, and even though Nowak's eye had fell on her, he knew there would be other youngsters ready to join the ranks of the Jesters. But he needed to finish the task Nowak had given him. Otherwise, there would be no turning back. It wasn't like Nowak would kill him for disobeying. The man wasn't a monster or he wouldn't have been able to keep on top of his gang for all these years, but he'd definitely fall from grace. And that meant that he would be drawing the short stick eventually, getting assigned to a risky drive-by or just plain old racketeer business where you could never exclude the possibility that a new face on the block would put a slug between your teeth.

Apparently, Janina couldn't tell he lied and she stood up, grabbing his outstretched arm to pull herself up. "There is..." she said and then she fell silent again as if she had trouble finding the words to describe whatever she had seen. Parcivale tried to supress his impatience, biting his tongue. "There is..." she tried again, "There were bodies, lots of bodies. All... slaughtered. Butchered. Hacked and blown to pieces. It was unlike... unlike anything I have ever seen." Parcivale nodded thoughtfully, supressing the urge to shake the girl back and forth. "Why did you run?" he asked cautiously. She averted her eyes, perhaps not willing to tell. Parcivale held her hands and pinched them softly. She looked back up at him with her eyes wide open, her panic still simmering right beneath the surface. "Hammer. I couldn't... It was too much. Ripper just ploughed through it. Like he didn't see what he was walking into. There was blood everywhere. There were pools of it. He just stepped through it. He didn't see..." Now that she talked, she really blurted out the words, perhaps feeling some relief that someone listened. Parcivale let go of her hands and instead put his arms around her. He shushed her. This was a critical moment. He knew instictively that he needed to consolidate her support there and then. If not, she wouldn't fall for any other lies he might tell her later.

"Ok. You're safe now," he told her again, "But you need to show we where Ripper went. We'll stay together. I'll lead and you're staying right behind me. Ok? You think you can do that?" The girl stared at him and for a moment Parcivale thought that he'd just have to find Ripper's trail on his own. But then she nodded once and pushed herself up. "Ok, Hammer. I think I can do that." she said with a trembling voice and Parcivale could see that she was furiously blinking her eyes to avoid crying. All in all, it didn't really raise his confidence in the girl, but he would take what he could get. And he had to admit to himself that he was unnerved too. "Good... Good Jay." he said and the girl actually managed a weak smile. "You're using my name." He smiled back at her. "Anyone who makes it inside the den of the Widow deserves that much respect." The girl shook her head in disbelief and started walking to the door, keeping her eyes averted of the form nailed against the wall. Parcivale followed her example and doused the stablight. Coming at the door, they switched places. Janina whispered to go right and Parcivale gently opened the door again. He kept his head down and tried to ignore the writing on the wall as he moved on.

Janina guided him through the habblock, until they came at the central hall which was dominated by a single column which contained five elevator shafts. The pentagonal column sported five statues, nothing too fancy, that represented Imperial virtues: faith, duty, courage... They had been clad with obscene words and here and there they were damaged, missing fingers or their chests being dented. But they couldn't distract the two gangers from the scene of absolute carnage on the floor. Janina hadn't lied. There were body parts everywhere, some cut from their torsos, others seemed to be blown up. When Parcivale walked in, he heard the soft splashing sound of his shoes on the wet floor. He looked back at Janina whose face had lost all colour again, but she seemed to keep it together. 'For now.' Parcivale thought as he kneeled at one of the bodies to study the damage. These weren't the wounds inflicted by handcannons or autopistols. Nor were these bodies cut up with switchblades or even chainswords. The cuts were straight and the wounds seemed to have been cauterized instantly. Parcivale didn't know any weapon that would cause such a thing. And when he studied the bodies that had been blown up, his initial hypothesis of a frag grenade could be dismissed as well. There wasn't any shrapnel in the wounds. But these wounds he recognized. He'd seen them inflicted once on a fellow ganger. That day they had crossed the path of an Adeptus Arbites kill squad - something most gangers only encountered once in their lifetime - and he remembered the formidable firepower they had brought to the fore: boltguns.

"No one has this kind of fire power down here." Parcivale muttered, half to himself, half to Janina. "And definitely not the Raptors." The girl approached him, still looking like a deer that might run at any moment. She whispered, afraid to break the silence. "Where are the bodies of the attackers? These are all Widowers." Parcivale frowned and looked around again. It was hard to identify the corpses that were laying around, what with all the loose body parts anyway, but after some checking, he came to the same conclusion. There wasn't a single casualty of the other party. And it wasn't that the Widowers had started a fight amongst themselves. They only carried the usual weaponry. No bolt weapons. "Good catch, Jay." Parcivale commented the girl. "Now where did Ripper go?" Janina looked around, trying to get her bearings. Then she pointed at a small door next to one of the elevators, probably leading to a service ladder. "Ok, let's..." Parcivale started, but he forgot what he was about to say when his eye fell on something. Janina saw how the Jester started prodding the corpse laying next to him. "Hammer?" she asked but Parcivale didn't reply and instead crept closer to the abdomen of the ganger. "Hammer, what the flip are you doing?" He ignored her and pushed away a flap of muscle and fat of the female Widower. He made sure that he blocked Janina's view as he pulled at something lodged inside the body. It felt hard, boney, but it had a polished black colour. With an effort, he managed to pull it free of the confines of the corpse. Immediately he let it fall to the floor where it landed with a wet thud. "Mutants." he whispered, revulsion dripping from the word. Behind him, he heard Janina asking what he had found. "Nothing" he answered bluntly and he kicked the thing away wildly. "Nothing" he repeated, but he sounded less than convinced. Parcivale had recognized the thing as a small human baby, only it had sported two considerably large, black horns on its skull. The sight would remain imprinted in his memory until his death.

He felt no need to share that with the girl behind him. Instead he turned around and walked to the service entry, grabbing Janina by the shoulder and pulling her with him. He had just opened the small iron plasteel door when she returned the favour. "Look," she said pointing at the floor before the elevator, "someone passed by". Hammer looked down and then stepped in closer to investigate. Before the elevator doors he could see footprints, painted on the floor in blood, but what struck him was that they were all the same but in different sizes. As if a few enforcers had stood here, all in riot gear with heavy combat boots. He looked at the needle above the elevator doors. It pointed at a small High gothic styled, copper 19, one floor below the top of the building. "Ripper will probably be there as well. Let's go Jay." The girl seemed to respond well to her name, so Parcivale used it consequently, hoping that it would help her to keep it together. Not feeling too confident about it, he led the way.


	3. Chapter 3: Third party

The carnage they had found in the hall, didn't extend to the stairwell, but here too they found traces. Not of the combat boots, but of the sole of a pair of shoes far more worn. A clear sign for Parcivale that Janina had correctly remembered the way Ripper had gone and that his own intuition was still on the mark. They started climbing the stairs and soon the sound of the two gangers breathing heavily could be heard in the shaft. Coming at the nineteenth floor, they slowed their pace, worried that they would walk in on the unforeseen party. They didn't stumble on the party, nor did they find Ripper at the top. Instead they could see that the way up was blocked. Someone had made the effort of thoroughly filling the stairwell with debris and pieces of flakboard. There was still some light coming from the next level, but when Janina wanted to crawl through the blockade, Parcivale stopped her. With one finger before his mouth, he pointed at a thin black wire running under the debris. Boobytraps. The Widowers had made sure that no one would enter the Widow's personal quarters this way.

They slipped out of the stairwell, entering another circular hall although this one far smaller than the one on the ground floor. The gang signs of the Widow were here too, but both Janina and Parcivale had learned by now, not to pay attention to them. They sat down behind a ruined couch which had once belonged to one of the loyal Imperial civvies that had probably left this building decades ago. Or that had just been killed by one of the gangs when the habblock had changed hands in a turfwar.

"Where is Ripper?" Janina asked, whispering. She had given voice to the exact question Parcivale was contemplating. His footprints had led to this floor, but in the hall, the floor was made out of a dirty rug, ragged and ruined by years of neglect. Ripper might have been able to find a trail here, but neither Janina, nor Parcivale possessed such a talent. Finally, he answered the girl. "No idea. But he wouldn't have taken the elevator, so he's probably exploring this floor for another way up. We should do the same." At the same moment, the two Jesters heard a dull, booming noise. Gunfire, coming from above. "The fight ain't over yet Jay." Parcivale said as he screwed his silencer off the barrel of his autopistol. "Let's go." Janina tightened her grip on her switchblade and moved further down into the building. With the sound of battle echoing through the halls, the two gangers didn't pay all that much attention to stealth, favouring speed over it. And the habblock's standard layout helped as well. Only four, straight hallways led away from the central atrium with the elevator carriages. They didn't sport any branches, just doors on either side leading to the individual habs. Both Janina and Parcivale could clearly hear from which corridor the sounds of battle were coming.

Parcivale ran. Chances were that Ripper was right in the middle of the combat. Losing him would mean that their chances to actually kill the Widow herself would drop drastically. Parcivale came to another, open door. His eye caught movement and he skidded to a halt. He pointed his autopistol through the doorway and scanned the room. He saw some debris falling, probably rocked by the explosions. And then he realized that he was looking at some sort of improvised ramp. The Widowers had collapsed the ceiling and made a real bottleneck out of it. Two heavy stubber nests covered the cracked rockcrete plate, but the barrels hung limp on their sandbag emplacements. And that's where Parcivale saw something moving. Before he could assess other threats, Janina flashed past him and stormed to the top of the ramp. He yelled her name and then stormed after her. But the girl was quicker than him and tigered over the left emplacement where there had been movement. As he scrambled up the ramp, trying hard not to loose his footing, he saw a metallic flicker. She thrusted her knife down. Twice. Parcivale jumped over the other hip high wall of sandbags and took cover. "_Bizty_!" She yelled, indicating a kill and Parcivale rose up from behind his cover and checked for other hostiles. In the meanwhile the din of battle seemed to intensify.

Parcivale saw no one and sprinted to Janina's position. She sat stradled over the body of a man, fully clad in a cameo painted carapace armour, her knife stuck firmly in the man's neck. From the lack of blood from the wound, Parcivale could tell that the man had been wounded already. Janina didn't move, her knuckles white from holding her knife. She didn't even look at him and Parcivale tried to remember how he had felt the first time he had killed. He felt for the girl, even if she had just, probably, given the man a coup de grace. He grabbed her by the shoulder. "Well done Jay. But we need to move." The sound of bolt shells exploding against a wall further down the habcomplex was enough stimulus to keep Parcivale focused. His eye fell on the boltpistol the dead man still held in his right hand. Without hesitation, Parcivale holstered his own autopistol and switched it out for the bolt pistol. He quickly searched the body for extra magazines and was rewarded with two more, both of which had the doubleheaded eagle etched in them. He also found an exquisite looking sword. He passed it on to Janina who had by now managed to stand up. "Here," he said, thrusting the weapon in her hand, "I don't know what it is, but I'm sure it's better than that switchblade of yours." He didn't have the heart to tell her that she was more likely to stab herself with it, but if they were going up against this kind of foes, she needed something better. It was a small wonder that her knife hadn't broken on the carapace armour in her first attempt to kill the man at his feet.

Janina shook her head and stashed her knife. She seemed to take a decision and then picked up the pace, heading towards the sounds of gunfire. Parcivale didn't comment on it, but followed her lead. As they ran through the corridor, in the direction of the atrium of the twentieth floor, Parcivale tried to find an explanation for the presence of the heavily armed man. Or, who or what the man actually was. It was clear that he wasn't a ganger. Nobody down here had the means to get themselves bolt weapons or such heavy armour. It made him think of the Kraskow enforcers, but them too didn't have such equipment. And, there hadn't been a single badge or symbol on the man's armour and after twenty years of running and fighting with the local law enforcement, Parcivale knew what they looked like.

Suddenly, the wall before him seemed to explode. The flakboard splintered as a full auto burst of bolt shells ripped through it. Parcivale immediately dived to the floor, nearly crashing head first against the wall. Janina on the other hand, managed to make a graceful slide and disappeared through the door closest to the gunfire. Parcivale rolled to the edge of the door where the girl had just spun through, cursing her, but still intending on covering the Jester. He looked along the massive barrel of the boltpistol and immediately pressed the trigger. A horned figure swinging a seemingly primitive axe took two bolts to its hairy hunched back. The thing staggered and its swing missed Janina by a hair's width. "Frig Jay!" Parcivale yelled. "Get back in cover, _glupyd_ girl!" But she didn't hear him, or just ignored him as she crossed blades with someone who looked like a normal ganger at least. Parcivale couldn't keep an eye on her. He had trouble of his own.

Instead of slumping to the ground with two holes in his back, the mutant he had shot, turned around and charged him. The axe the mutant held in his hands, had a pitch black blade and blood was dripping from the edge. In two seconds, the thing would have closed the distance and it would be his blood that would be spilled. Parcivale, laying on the ground, was out of options. So he just squeezed the trigger as many times as he could in the short time he was granted. He managed to get in three shots. The first one missed and disappeared in a flurry of bodies behind the mutant, the second one hit the thing in the shoulder and the third blew away the lower jaw of its face. Parcivale felt how he was stepped on half a second later. The mutant crashed head first, or whatever was left of his head, into the wall of the corridor. There it slumped to the floor, painting the wall with a bloody red smear. Parcivale sat up, his back against the wall and forgot about his comrades for a second. Instead he stared at the body laying only two feet away. It still spasmed a bit, but Parcivale's eyes were drawn to the ruined face of the man.

Like the thing he had pulled out of the woman's body below, the thing sprouted two black horns from his forehead, but in this specimen, they had grown a feet long, sporting barbs and twisting backwards. Under its improvised attire of flak armour and gang leathers, it sported patches of thick reddish fur. Its dead eyes were pitch black and on its forehead the symbol of the Widow was tattooed. It was both hideous and sinister. The corpse's smell was a mixture of old blood and sour sweat.

Another volley of boltshells tore through the wall, covering Parcivale in dust and flakboard splinters, making him snap to attention. He looked around the corner and took in the scene beyond. It was a chaotic fight, without any lines or ranks. It was just a big chaotic melee, a jumble of bodies, both mutant, ganger and troopers. As far as Parcivale could tell, the gangers were fighting alongside the mutants, although the mutants didn't seem to care one bit about who they hit when swinging their vicious black axes. The armoured men all had the same equipment. Those in melee had resorted to using their boltpistols and the special swords who now crackled with lightning, while the others tried to cover their comrades in arms with their boltguns. Janina was fighting hand to hand with one of the gangers, who was armed with some sort of warhammer. She fought agressively and apparently the man had learned already that her sword would make short work of his own weapon. That had been enough to keep him at bay the first few strikes, but now the ganger seemed to move in for an attack, having seen that Janina didn't master any of the, even most basic, sword fighting techniques. She kept using it to stab the man as if the sword was actually a knife. Parcivale aimed, but Janina did everything she could, including dancing around the Widower, to avoid being hit. Which made it very hard to actually get of a shot.

The melee went on and the ganger, clad in a ruined PDF flak coat, had stepped twice within Janina's guard and the girl had only managed to slip away from the crushing blows of the ganger by her natural agility and the luck of the Emperor. Parcivale knew that this would end sooner rather then later. His faith in a good outcome tanked when the Widower managed to connect the warhammer with Janina's left shoulder. She kept standing, staggering from the impact of the blow... right in his line of fire. Parcivale glanced left and right to see if he could go in close, but another volley of exploding bolt shells over his head made it clear that he could just as easily be mowed down in the raging fight. He focused back on Janina, just in time to see someone charge in. Parcivale blinked his eyes, but there was no denying when the sound of a chain weapon was added to the din of battle. The arm with the warhammer flew through the air as the ganger grabbed the bleeding stump at his shoulder. Ripper didn't waste another second and grabbed Janina by the shoulder, pulling the limping Jester to the relative safety of Parcivale's cover. "Hammer! Cover us!" the ginger bearded man yelled and Parcivale gladly provided. He emptied the bolt pistol firing at mutants, gangers and troopers alike.

Ripper pushed the dazed girl to the floor when they reached the door, diving behind her even before she had hit the floor. "Good to see you, Rip!" Parcivale shouted over the racket of combat. He really did feel relieved to have catched up with his comrade, even though he normally only felt distate for the filthy man. In here, in a combat, he was glad with every friendly face he could find. "_Ya_, _ya_. We need to move on Hammer. The Widow is in the other wing. This is her protection detail holding of this assault." Parcivale nodded and rolled past the door, grabbing the moaning girl under her shoulder, pulling her up, with Ripper doing the same thing at her other side. Janina started cursing through gritted teeth and Parcivale whispered a few encouraging words in her ear. Ripper led them away from the combat, in the direction of the elevator hall, deeper into the Widow's lair.

"What is frigging up with those mutants?" Parcivale asked, but Ripper just grunted non-committedly. "Or with those troopers? Those aren't enforcers." Parcivale persisted. Ripper now grunted his assent. Suddenly the haggard scout stopped and gently pushed open the door of another hab unit with the tip of his chainblade. "I don't know, but first we need to adress this." he said, breathing heavily as he dropped the panting Janina to the floor. Ripper's talents lay in sneaking and hiding, not in raw force. Neither Parcivale or Ripper had a lot of medical experience though, so they stood over the girl that had grabbed her left shoulder and held it franticly. "That's probably broken." Parcivale offered, but Ripper only nodded, not knowing what to do even if his comrade had made the right diagnosis. "Better leave her here and pick her up later. It seems like Nowak's plan of stealthing through the building is forfeit anyway. If we come to a closed door, we'll just have to make due." He raised his chainblade to demonstrate just how he would circumvent a locked door. "Let's go." the scout said, beckoning to the flimsy flakboard door they had just come through. Parcivale hesitated for a second, but hadn't got a better solution, so he prepared to move out and started reloading his newly acquired boltpistol.

At that point the two Jesters were rudely interrupted. "No! No! Don't leave me." Janina cried out. She seemed to have shaken off the daze and sounded terrified. She corrected herself almost immediately though. "You might still need me," she said, trying to keep her voice level, "And you'll definitely have a better chance if there are three of us against whatever is out there." Parcivale wanted to say something sarcastic about her current condition, but then he remembered the mutant laying at his feet, felled after four direct hits with his bolt pistol. Ripper seemed to wait on Parcivale's decision, apparently no longer interested in taking the lead. Parcivale looked back down at Janina. She would probably just slow them down. He was about to tell her as much, but the girl spoke up before him, perhaps guessing his intention, even though she couldn't see his eyes behind the photo visor. "Just tie down my arm and shoulder. I'll bite through the pain. And I can still fight. I fight with right. I fight with right." She said. "Please, Hammer." The ganger looked at the sword and then back at the girl. "Fine," he said grudgingly, "But we won't wait for you if you can't keep up." Janina nodded quickly. "I've got a few med supplies in my satchel. Just tie it down. I'll tell you how." Ripper exchanged a surprised look with Parcivale, but he just shrugged. Having someone in your team with a bit of medicae knowledge was always a good thing, but seeing as the girl was now crippled, it seemed to have lost its value.

Ripper went through the satchell and found an only slightly soiled white bandage. With a small nod Parcivale gestured that he should get on with it, but instead Ripper threw the little roll up to him. It was clear that the scout still wasn't completely convinced about helping the girl. Parcivale wanted to ask why he had stormed into the melee to save her earlier, but he already knew that people reasoned differently in a combat situation, sometimes surprising themselves. Cowards could become leaders and vice versa. Two minutes later, Janina's arm was tied tightly to her body. She never made a sound, even when Parcivale had tugged at the bandage quite forcefully. His respect for the little girl grew even more when she stood up and wanted to take the lead. He stopped her and pointed at Ripper. He was the scout after all. She gave him a small but brave smile and fell in line. They left the hab and went deeper into the hab, looking for the Widow.


	4. Chapter 4: The Widow

In the hallway the sounds of battle still rang, although it seemed to be a bit less intense. Parcivale wondered who was winning for a second, but then Ripper turned around a corner and he had to focus on keeping up. They arrived at the atrium and without pauze Ripper led them to into the southern corridor of the habblock. He kept up the pace, but as they passed the rooms that branched of at either side of the hallway, Parcivale caught glimpses of shackles and chains, some adorned with bleached white skulls. Somewhere at the back of his head he knew that this was no longer normal gang behaviour. And he didn't even want to think about the mutants at this point. Some gangs didn't make a problem of accepting 'muties' in their midst - Nowak didn't and Parcivale was glad for it - but this hadn't been some poor wretches that sought protection from the streets in a gang. These things seemed to have been breeded somehow. Breeded for battle.

Ripper stopped at a corner and Parcivale realized that he had slowed the pace gradually until they had come at a complete stop. The gaunt scout laid a finger on his lips and then put up two fingers, making the sign for enemy. Parcivale raised his silenced autopistol in response and Ripper switched places with him. Now, ever so slowly, Parcivale started to lean around the corner and trusted the little machine spirit of his photo visor to give him a clear picture of what lay ahead. Sure enough he saw two hostiles about fifty metres away, one seemingly ordinary ganger and one of the horned mutants. They both stood beside a heavy metal door which must have been installed by the gangers. It sure wasn't part of the original building and Parcivale could see that the door slumped a bit to the side indicating sloppy work. The ganger on the left carried an autogun and would be able to retaliate immediately, but nevertheless Parcivale aimed down the sight of his silenced Pugnatis-pattern autopistol at the mutant, gunning for one of its eyes, hoping that it would be a weak spot. He wanted to take it down first, preferably with a single shot. Even though the other two Jesters were equipped for a melee, he didn't want to let it come to that. Even the more experienced Ripper wasn't really a match for the axe wielding foe.

He pressed the trigger softly and immediately steadied his gun for another headshot. The first bullet had hit the thing in the eye as planned, but it still kept standing, only groaning softly. Parcivale pulled the trigger again, now hitting the thing in the temple. Now it fell down. The other ganger hadn't noticed anything until the brute fell to the floor with a dull bang. But by then, it was too late. Parcivale had shifted his aim to the other man's head and fired off another slug. Although he missed his mark - at least the man was quick enough to start moving - the shot hit the man in the shoulder, causing him to cry out and drop his autogun. From behind Parcivale's back Ripper sprinted down the corridor, Janina hot on his heels. Parcivale got ready to provide covering fire, but the Widower seemed to hesitate and couldn't decide between grasping his shoulder, picking up the autogun or pulling his backup weapon. The two Jesters used the opportunity to close the distance. Janina even managed to catch up with Ripper and deal the first blow, her weapon cutting clean through the man's arm he had raised to fend off the attack. Ripper made short work of him a second later.

As Parcivale started running himself, he saw how Janina moved to the plasteel door. 'Good girl.' Parcivale thought, commending the girl for keeping her focus. After all, the two guards were just one more obstacle to overcome on their path to the Widow. Just like the heavy plasteel door was. Janina unhooked a little device from her belt and jammed it in the control panel at the side of the door. Parcivale hoped that the girl knew what she was doing with the security spike. "Come on Jay! Quickly now!" he yelled encouragingly. Which almost made him miss the footprint on a dirty rug laying before one of the old hab doors. He had stormed by and wanted to turn around to investigate - the footprint resembled those of the troopers they had seen already - but it seemed his trust in Janina was well placed as he saw the plasteel door slowly sliding open. So the ganger kept running, following Ripper through the growing slit between door and wall, and focused on their priority target.

Behind the door the original layout of the habblock had been completely destroyed. Walls had been knocked down in some places and the Widowers had screened off new areas with improvised flakboard, creating a mazelike structure. Just like below the walls were adorned with the gang sign of the Widow, only here, the scripture surrounding the tags filled the entire space, spreading out on floors and ceiling, as if the symbols themselves had taken over the room. Ripper signed to spread out and led by example, resolutely picking the left side of the room to follow. Parcivale cursed softly. He didn't like splitting up their forces and one look at the pale face of Janina told him that the girl wasn't looking forward to the prospect of going on alone either. He pointed at her and then at himself and relief flashed over her face. 'Ripper can frig himself.' Parcivale thought. He and the girl took to the right of the maze and made their way through a narrow corridor of grey flakboard plates. As soon as they were on their way, Janina tapped Parcivale on the shoulder and took the lead. Once more the girl surprised him. She kept her sword raised in front of her as she walked through a room, its floor covered with a greyish powder. Parcivale knelt down and drew a finger throught the sandlike dust. Peering through his photo visor, he tried to determine whatever it was they were walking through.

Janina hissed at him and picked up something from the floor. "Hammer, it's bones. It's frigging bones." She stepped back to him and passed him the thing she had picked up from the floor. Parcivale took it and tried to identify what he was holding. And all of a sudden it dawned on him that he was holding half a collarbone, one edge grated, as if someone had taken a rough file and had mercilessly scraped it at one end. He dropped the bone on the ground. "Let's get the frig out of here." he whispered. Picking up the pace again, Janina took the lead and turned left as they came to the rockcrete outer wall of the building. She threw a look over her shoulder. "Where is she?" she whispered and Parcivale could see that her fear was getting the better of the girl and to be frank, where he had been unnerved by the strange tags and the skulls, and had been properly disturbed by the Widow's mutants, he now too felt the claws of fear in his flesh. Even though it was cool, almost cold up here, he was sweating and he noticed how a small tremor had gotten hold of his hand. Definitely not the thing a sharp shooter could use. He was just beckoning Janina to keep going when the eerie silence was torn by the revving noise of a chain weapon. 'Ripper's blade' Parcivale thought. Janina froze. Parcivale tried to locate the origin of the sound. "Ripper!" he yelled, not sure where he needed to go. He heard the Jester yelling something indistinguishable and another roar of the chainblade. "Frig!" Parcivale yelled. "Where is he?" Janina looked around, panicking. Going back through the corridors to pick up Ripper's trail would take far too long. Ripper's yelling changed. Where it had been some sort of half ass rallying cry earlier, it now turned into a cry of fear.

That was enough to force Parcivale's brain into action. Suddenly determined he kicked with his right foot against the flakboard in front of him. The plate didn't buckle but the shoddy hinges that locked it to the next one, bent. Another kick was enough to topple the thing over. He jumped through the impromptu entrance and ran over some dirty bedrolls, this time ramming his shoulder full force into the next flakboard wall between him and the sound of Ripper fighting. This time he burst through the flakboard in one go. He stumbled forwards which was his fortune as something missed his head by an inch, cleaving the air with a whooshing sound. Instead of looking what was going on, Parcivale dived into a roll. He heard a halfhearted warcry from Janina behind him and another roar of Ripper's chainblade. He lept up and turned to meet their foe.

She was in combat with Ripper, weaving around the seemingly clumsy swings and stabs of the ganger, armed with a thin staff with a needlesharp emerald pick on the end. She didn't wore any armour, instead relying on her superior reflexes to dodge everything Ripper was throwing at her. The constrast between the two combattants couldn't be bigger. Ripper's expression revealed that he was clinging on to his dear life. His mouth was twisted in a bitter snarl and his face had reddened from the strain to keep up with her. She on the other hand, hadn't broken a sweat and smiled a little, mocking smile as if she was being amused by Ripper's attacks and parries. She swirled around another thrust aimed at her chest, her dark blue cloak billowing and revealing a slender figure, clad in a black, tight fitting bodyglove with some sort of silver tribal accents. The Widow was simply stunning, both in her appearance as performance. Parcivale had no trouble at all imagining her leading a gang.

He jumped back as the woman almost casually jabbed at him with her pick - she had backhanded Ripper only a fraction of a second ago - and stopped admiring her. Janina had just stepped through the hole in the flakboard and charged the widow's back. Parcivale aimed his autopistol on the enemy, trying to get in a counterattack, but at that point Ripper ducked under the sweeping staff and managed a glancing strike. The teeth of the chainblade ripped through the black-and-silver bodyglove, but instead of drawing blood, the pale skin of the Widow didn't even showed a scratch. Instead of being able to take advantage of the expected unbalance of the enemy, Ripper instead got kicked in the side by a stiletto heeled boot and suffered another blow from the woman, scratching her nails over his face. At that point Janina jumped in, her powersword tracing a wide arc before colliding with the Widow's pick. There was a flash of light when the two weapons met each other and Janina let out a surprised cry. The Widow on the other hand laughed as suddenly a green light started to flicker from the strange, cutting part of the weapon. But a moment later her laughing was drowned out by the screaming of Ripper, laying on the floor with his hand clutched to his face. Parcivale switched to full auto fire and fired off a volley but even though the bullets cut through the Widow's cloak, she didn't seem to be concerned, instead focusing her attention on Janina who was now frantically stepping back to remain outside the reach of the glowing staff. Ripper was now screaming uncontrollably, rolling around on the floor, having let go of his blade. Parcivale aimed again and bursted again before the woman would be back in melee with Janina. This time he hit her square across her back, the last bullet of the volley hitting her in the neck, but she seemed unstoppable. Janina stumbled and fell backwards. Unable to break her fall without losing her weapon, she hit the floor hard. She still kept her sword raised across her body to parry the inevitable finishing blow, but her arm was trembling and the tip of the sword hung forcelessly to the floor.

In an instant the Widow grabbed the end of the staff with two hands, swinging the weapon in a perfect circle from behind her back towards the Jester on the floor. Parcivale couldn't do anything anymore and saw the scene playing out before him. Janina started screaming, her eyes flickering with rage as she raised her sword to fend off the attack. Left of the Widow, Ripper lay still, his cries of pain at an end. The emerald pick reached its highest point and started to descend. Then, suddenly a loud bang and immediately blood spat from the chest of the Widow. Parcivale couldn't see her face, but the pick of the staff cut into the rockcrete floor, only a couple of inches right from Janina's head, and an agonizing scream drowned out all other noise. A petite woman had entered the room and aimed her boltgun at figure of the floundering Widow, tracing her movements before firing off another shell. She wore the same black carapace armour as the men they had encountered earlier, although she had discarded, or lost, her helmet, showing thick brown hair, long and loose at the left side of her head and cut close to the scalp on the right side. Two dark brown, almond shaped eyes seemed to be able to pierce the darkness without effort, but the thin red laser sight at the tip of the boltgun might have contributed to her accuracy. The second shell hit the Widow in the shoulder, almost blowing away her arm. She slumped to the floor, a wet thud the only sound she made in her death.


	5. Chapter 5: Face off

"Don't!" the woman yelled, even as Parcivale came at Ripper's side, seeing how his comrade's face was covered in thick, white blisters. Before he could inspect Ripper any further, he heard a wet, bursting sound behind him. He looked up and saw how Janina was clumsily crawling backwards and how the woman with the boltgun had taken cover behind a ruined wooden bench, but then his attention was pulled to the Widow. She had dropped her staff and sat on her knees with her back to him, clawing in the air with her hands. She made a soft moaning sound, but it didn't seem like she was dying.

"Focus!" The armoured woman commanded. "Use the bolt pistol. Your bullets won't harm it." The form of the Widow started shivering and suddenly she seemed to rip open her dress, but instead she tore off her entire skin. An ugly and disgusting red body rose up from the floor, the corpse swelling and bloating until it was at least twice as wide as the woman had been. Immediately the boltgun of their new companion started barking, sending round after round towards the thing. Parcivale no longer understood what was happening. His gut told him that he should run. Ripper was dead and the wounded Janina shouldn't have been there in the first place. And his mission... His mission could go up Nowak's arse. Parcivale took a first step backwards, towards one of the exits of the improvised room.

"Fight or die, ganger!" the woman yelled over the noise of her boltgun. For a second Parcivale thought that she would shoot him. But then whatever had grown out of the Widow demanded all her attention. The thing had sprouted wings somehow and used them to ward off the bolts fired at it. "Flank it!" the woman yelled franticly, "Flank it and shoot it! Now!" But in that moment she was charged by the red raging thing. With one swing of its heavy arms it completely shattered the bench the woman had been hiding behind. She lept backwards, firing a semi-auto burst into the chest of the thing. It howled in agony, but remained on its path. Parcivale took another step backwards. And another. This wasn't his fight. The thing now stood over the form of the woman and knocked aside the boltgun, tearing it from her hands and flinging it across the room. It raised its wings and started to reach down to the woman's throat. And then cried out again, as black blood together with the tip of a white flickering sword protruded from its back. The thing took a step backwards, revealing the lithe figure of Janina that stabbed once more at the bloated body of the thing. This time she only grazed its side, but still provoked another howl. But then the thing got ahold of itself and lashed out with a devastating strike, hitting Janina on her wounded shoulder. The bone had been broken already, but this time her entire left shoulder and probably a few of her ribs were shattered. Surprisingly she didn't fall to the ground from the impact, but nevertheless her guard was down. And contrary to the Widow, this thing that had grown out of her didn't seem to enjoy playing with its victims.

Parcivale started pulling the awkwardly big boltpistol, but he knew he wouldn't make it in time. As he brought the gun in a firing position the unholy creature was already on Janina, battering her with both its oversized balled fists. Two, three times it lashed out before Parcivale managed to pull the trigger. He would have preferred a headshot, but the thing had stood bent over Janina's form, so his semi-auto burst sent two bolts neatly in its boney spine, exploding there and leaving two fairly large craters, spilling more of the stinking black blood. But it kept standing. Worse, it turned around to face Parcivale. The face that looked at him was vile red, twisted, with two completely charcoal black eyes peering from under a thick turgid brow. Like the mutants earlier, the thing had two black, twisted horns. Yet another weapon the thing could use to combat its opponents. Parcivale almost closed his eyes to avoid looking at it. It was worse than the mutants and instictively Parcivale could tell that there wasn't anything human about the thing anymore.

The abomination started to close the distance. Parcivale realized that he only had two more bolts left in his magazine, so he aimed carefully and fired a single shot. The bolt exploded just left of the muscular throat. Normally such a shot with this weapon should have been enough to rip apart the jugular. An instakill. The thing flinched, but kept going. It seemed unstoppable. Parcivale swore. "Frig it, Emperor!" The thing was in point blank range now and Parcivale could very nearly put his gun against the thing's temple. He shot it square in the face, the bolt exploding in its right cheek. As a result black blood, pieces of shattered yellow bone and red gore rained down on him. But then it was onto him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him to the ground. Where the beast touched him, he felt burning although he wasn't on fire. "You call on your false god in vain, mortal," it said slurringly, "You will know the truth." Parcivale breathed in a stench worse than anything he had ever experienced, not even that time when they had found the three week old rotting corpses of a few vent rats in one of the smuggling tunnels. "Now, you will join me." It removed one hand from his shoulder and brought it to his chest, its fingers wide as it it was going to grab something from out of Parcivale's chest. But then suddenly its face showed a new expression, perhaps surprise. It spat out more black blood, all over Parcivale's face. The Jester sputtered and spat back, eyes closed, trying hard not to get anything in his mouth. A new smell, that of burning flesh, penetrated his nostrils. The thing flapped its wings and managed to get up, standing over Parcivale with spreaded legs. It spun around, facing the petite woman again. She had to let go of Janina's sword and the weapon remained lodged firmly in the chest of the beast. "You are banished, ugly frak!" the woman yelled. "You've been banished by the Emperor and Helena Keita!" The woman laughed manicly. Parcivale could see that she was hurt and probably in shock. The beast now seemed effectively hampered by the sword which still flickered and glowed in bright blue and white light. The ganger started crawling backwards, having enough sense to recognize the moment to retreat. But his hope of escape was only short lived. Apparently against all odds, judging by the expression on Helena's face, the monster half toppled, half jumped on top of the woman. "Interrogator Keita," it laughed, "At last we meet." The interrogator, whatever that was Parcivale thought, laid under the abomination, smothered, although Parcivale could see how her left leg, which was still exposed, was kicking franticly. It seemed that with its last forces, the thing would kill her just by suffocating her with its body.

Parcivale stood up, still unsteady on his feet, the burning sensation in his shoulders barely bearable. Further down the room, he saw Janina's body and only his experienced eyes could tell him that she was still alive, her chest rising and falling ever so slightly. The bloated heap of reddish meat before him still shuddered although it had, thankfully, stopped talking. The Jester tried to focus. Three or four thoughts fought for his attention and he needed to decide on a course of action. After a few seconds, which seemed to last like an eternity for the ganger, he managed to focus on one of them. He patted his belt and found a spare magazine for the boltpistol. This one too had the strange little symbol etched in it, but Parcivale no longer cared about its meaning. With a flick of his thumb, he released the empty one and then jammed in the new clip, immediately putting the first of the eight bolts in the chamber of the gun. Then, he took two steps so he stood next to the beast's head and shot it. And again. And again. Until the second magazine was empty as well. The thing's head was a mess now. One of the horns had splintered, the other stood at a quite unnatural angle. Its brain, if it even had such a thing, was nothing more but black, sticky goo. The beast no longer moved with a will of its own. It no longer spasmed involuntarily. It was utterly destroyed.

Parcivale noticed how the woman's leg still kicked, although it was far less vigorous than before. He hesitated for a second. He had no idea who or what she represented. He didn't know whether she was a threat or not. He wanted to turn away, but she had saved his life. Some of his fellow gangers would just ignore that fact and play it safe, letting the woman die. Some would say that they hadn't asked for her help. And some were so rotten to the core that the idea of returning a favour wouldn't come up with them. Parcivale kicked at the remains of the abomination, trying to roll it of the woman and cursed when the thing barely moved. He hadn't gotten his rank with the Jesters because of his good heart. He put his foot against the thing's shoulder and pushed, moving the body a few inches. He wasn't known for his acts of generosity among the Jesters. He looked around and saw the Widow's staff. He picked it up and wedged it under the beast's bloody corpse. But he knew he hadn't been shivved in a back alley because he always paid off his debts. With a grunt, he put his shoulder under the staff and finally managed to roll the corpse of the woman's body. Immediately she gasped for air. The skin of her face was covered with a red rash and from her chest, the black blood ran in little rivers to the floor. She barely managed to open her eyes, peering at Parcivale from a slit between her eyelashes. "Don't... take... that... with..." she uttered, her voice soft but raw. Parcivale ignored her and jogged to Janina.

The girl's face was pallid although she hadn't had any visible wounds on her. Parcivale grabbed her by her good shoulder and tried to pull her up, leaning on the staff. The girl moaned and blinked a few times. "We need to go Jay." Parcivale whispered urgently. The Widow, whatever she had been, was dead. And so was Ripper. He had helped the woman as much as he could - there wasn't anything in Janina's satchel that could be used to see to her wounds - so there was nothing left to do. Moreover, he couldn't hear any sounds of combat anymore, which meant that the fight between the Widowers, both mutated and normal gangers, and the woman's troops had ended too. And Parcivale didn't want to wait to see who had actually won. Seeing that the girl was conscious, Parcivale pulled her to her feet. She was still desoriented though and she nearly fell back to the floor. He didn't have time to explain so instead, he just grabbed her by her waste, avoiding her ruined shoulder and arm, and started moving towards the atrium. If they were lucky, the elevator would be free and they could just pass to the streets unhindered.

As Parcivale ran by the interrogator, he saw the look on her face. It wasn't anger, nor pain that dominated her facial expression, but concern. She weakly raised her hand, pointing at him as he passed her. "Don't take it... with you..." she managed, just before her wounds overtook her and she fell unconscious again. Parcivale only thought briefly about the staff in his hand. It felt good. It lay in his hand easily, even though he wasn't trained as a close combat fighter. He'd be damned to leave it here for someone else to take it. And the emerald tip would get them a nice little sum. He was sure Nowak would think it worth a bonus. So he ignored the look of faint disbelief in Janina's eyes and instead soldiered on towards the elevator. He had other things on his mind right now. And so Parcivale pushed any thoughts about the staff to the back of his head and focused all his attention on leaving the cursed habblock.


	6. Chapter 6: Ring leaders

_Chapter 2: Nowak_

Parcivale gave Janina a sideway glance. The girl still didn't look at him. Even after all these months, she was still angry at him. He shrugged. If she wanted to blame him for her current situation, he couldn't care less. She was lucky to be still in the gang and her voice was dismissed easily. The gang had taken care of her, finding her a black market chirurgeon, but nobody expected her to fulfill the potential she had had when Nowak had picked her up from the streets. Especially not Nowak himself, who seemed to think of her as more and more of a nuisance. Parcivale scowled. Just like he would do any time he thought of Nowak. 'Pretentious _uckluk_.' he thought and he cursed again when the man passed by their ranks, carrying the fine black staff Parcivale had brought from the Widow's lair. As he drew another breath from his lho stick, he remembered how Nowak had laid his hands on the weapon, smiling when he recognized its quality. The bald man had pulled at it softly, trying to take it from Parcivale's hands. He had only resisted for a second, but that had been enough for Nowak to scrutinize him. "Isn't this for me Hammer?" the gangleader had asked, his tone soft, not yet threatening. Even though he hadn't really wanted to do so, he had let go of the staff and somewhere deep inside of him, he felt a bit of despair as subconsciously he realized that he wasn't going to get it back. His feelings had proven correct. Just as Parcivale had wanted to do, the boss had found someone to detach the emerald shard and had sold it to some fence who had contacts with the nobles of Hive Kraskow. The thrones now sat safely in Nowak's coffers and Parcivale had heard from Njed that the gang was richer than ever.

Nowak sat down on the pillows at the head of the ankle high table. He then gestured for the rest of the gangers to sit down. Only five of them actually did. These were the four ring leaders and Njed, the bookkeeper and de facto scribe. Some thought Nowak had delusions of grandeur for keeping someone like that around, but not Parcivale. Njed made sure that everyone got paid. And everyone their fair share. Perhaps contrary to their name, the Jesters had pretty strict rules of repartition. You got the thrones that you earned. And that was something Parcivale appreciated. There were many gangs were this wasn't a given. And most of the time these gangs collapsed after a while. Nowak knew very well who he was dealing with: greedy _friks_ that weren't there for the company. Or at least not primarily.

As the others sat down, Parcivale took his place at Nowak's right shoulder. Even though he had had to surrender his spoils, he had still taken a step up. Instead of being just muscle, he had been promoted to the position of bodyguard of the chief. A position with some renown as people thought you had the ear of the boss. Parcivale had learned soon enough that this wasn't the case at all. Nowak considered the trio of bodyguards as dumb muscle. The only difference was in the perception of the other Jesters. He remembered vividly how he had wanted to pass on a piece of advice to Nowak after one of these gatherings, but the man had stared at him as if he was a talking grox or something. So even if other gangers envied him for it, Parcivale couldn't care less. If anything, his life was more boring. The only upside was that he got paid a little better.

Parcivale looked over the faces of the ringleaders. At Nowak's right side sat Elyna, his oldest companion and his right hand. If Nowak was indisposed, it was she who gave the orders. She was tough as nails and perhaps the oldest gal in the entire gang. Word was that she had once shared Nowak's bed, but such things lay well within the past. Life had been harsh for her and she had the scars to show for it. Next to her sat Ygor, or Whisper as most of the Jesters called him. The man was short and scrawny and just by his looks, no one would have given him a place at the table. But what the man lacked in muscle, he made up for in brains. He had a talent to pick up the most interesting bits of information. And somehow, he and his crew managed to make the distinction between drunk stories, idle gossip and subtle lies on the one hand and the important clues and hooks on which the Jesters could act on the other. For example, it had been Whisper who had found out about the raid on the Widowers by the Raptors. Parcivale couldn't relate to the man's work, but he respected him nonetheless. Across him sat Lödz, the best dressed ganger at the table, outshining everyone with numerous silver rings on his fingers and three golden studs across his brow. The man limped a bit - he had a bionic leg - but he managed to make it look suave instead of stupid. Word was that he had set a few gems in the leg, just to impress the ladies. He had a smooth voice and used it for two things: sucking up to his betters and threatening the frig out of those below him. Lödz, or Blinky as his men called him behind his back - never to his face - was head of the ring in charge of extortion. He always started off nice with new tenants or those poor wretches that wanted to start up a business in the underhive, but the gloves went off soon enough. His approach invariably led to yet another 'customer', which was, according to Parcivale, the main reason why Nowak kept him around. At the end of the table, straight across the boss, sat Sharenya. Not only her name betrayed her off world lineage but the brown skin, black hair and dark eyes as well. She'd come to Hive Kraskow when she was 16 and had lived on The Hole before. It was quite surprising that she actually had managed to join the gang, let alone occupy a position as ring leader. The Jesters were like most Kraskow underhivers in their dealings with off worlders: suspicious or down right hostile. But she was the best hand-to-hand fighter Parcivale had ever laid his eyes on. Which was why she now carried the sword Janina had taken with her from their raid on the Widow's lair. Parcivale only thought it logical that his former leader had demanded the sword. She had known it was a power sword and had shown that she was quite skilled with it. And as the leader of the muscle, there wasn't anyone that was gonna fight her over it. Parcivale gave her a small, discrete nod as she sat down on her own pillow, but it went unanswered as Sharenya was already focused on the meeting at hand.

Lödz was the first to speak, as always, bragging about the coin he'd managed to bring in. Some of the gangers around the table sighed annoyed, but were quickly straightened out by Lödz' crew with some icy stares. Next came Elyna who briefed Nowak about last night's events. Sharenya and Njed chipped in, until finally Whisper took the floor. Parcivale leaned in, as Ygor wasn't in the habit of raising his voice. The gangers standing around the table shut up or only spoke in hushed tones with each other. "There's been a raid on the Claw." Whisper began. "Or, perhaps I should call it slaughter. We heard about thirty casualties, which means about three in four of them bit it." Parcivale digested the information. The Claw was the base of operations of the Raptors, a dive bar underneath a derelict manufactorium. "The attack wasn't just effective. It was also brutal. Some of those gangers have been literally torn apart. From others nothing remained but a red pulp and some shattered bones." Whisper continued. "I've made some inquiries, but although the Gunrunners and the Howls had unfinished business with them, nothing is pointing in that direction at this point." The boss laughed. "And they don't have the manpower to pull something off like that." Sharenya nodded at that comment, acknowledging Nowak's evaluation, while Elyna's frown was a subtle sign of disapproval. Nowak didn't seem to notice. Whisper continued his briefing unperturbed, but Parcivale could hear that apart from the raid itself, the ringleader hadn't got any answers on the really important questions: who and why. Without those, it was hard to assess whether the Jesters were in someone's crosshairs too. The thought that this had something to do with the raid on the Widowers was something that immediately occured to Parcivale, but he seemed to be the only one. He couldn't speak up about it. Only ringleaders were allowed to take the floor during these meetings. If a ganger wanted to add something, they were supposed to pass the message to their leader, in case of Parcivale, Nowak himself, but the boss had made it clear that he didn't expect any such suggestions from his bodyguards. Annoyed, Parcivale looked across the faces of the ringleaders and the other gangers. His eyes crossed with Janina's and he could tell that she'd been thinking the same frigging thing.

Soon after, the meeting was concluded and the gangers dispersed. Some of them went to work, others went home. A fair number just left the room but remained at their lair, finding amusement in a game of craps or pokir, or just burned through their thrones by buying a few rounds of amasec at the bar. Even though Njed made sure everyone got a decent pay, he also was smart enough to try and recover some of that coin right away. Parcivale saw Janina approaching and his annoyance only grew. He had nothing to say to the girl. She was just a nuisance now. "Hammer," she adressed him, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "I don't think much." Parcivale replied. "It isn't expected from me." She stepped in closer and he could see she wanted to punch him for that. "Frigging _schlemyl_. Don't do that. Don't you think that..." Parcivale interrupted her. "Who are you calling a _schlemyl_. You can hardly walk which shows your past choices and reasoning aren't very trustworthy. Don't bother me with your..." Parcivale struggled to find the right words. He wasn't much of a talker anyway. "Ideas." he finally managed. Now, the girl did punch him on the shoulder. It was a forceless blow, but nonetheless, Parcivale caught her fist as it reclined, crushing it in his own. "Watch out Jay. Your position here is strenuous already. Don't go picking fights you can't win." And with that, he turned his back on her and started walking to his own quarters. Contrary to most of the Jesters he actually had gotten a room here. Came with the job. It wasn't much to look at, but it had the same comforts as his old shack and he didn't need to pay for it. He heard Janina cursing, but ignored her.

He had only just sat down on the single, old plasteel chair in his room when he heard someone knocking at his door. 'Can't get a break around here.' he thought as he stood up. Unfortunately he couldn't tell anyone to frig off. The downside of a place here, was that the boss could always call on him and all the Jesters knew better than to ignore or dismiss Nowak. He opened the door, which on his side was covered in old, yellowed magazine pics of pinup girls and peered through the slit. His autopistol sat safely tucked away behind his grox leather belt as usual, even though he didn't expect any trouble. In fact, even while he now resided in the Jester's lair, he still kept the gun stashed beneath his pillow when he went to bed. At the other side of the door stood Elyna and she looked right mad at him. "You're gonna open that door frigface?" Parcivale knew better than to backmouth to her. Talking with Elyna was quite a difference from dealing with Janina. He opened the door, wordlessly inviting her in. She stepped in rather quickly and Parcivale wondered why she was hurried. After all, this was her home turf and she owned the place almost as much as Nowak himself.

She looked around the sparse furniture in the room and decided to remain standing. Her back was straight and she carried her hair in a black ponytail speckled through with grey locks. Her face was dominated by a silvery hooked scar, running from her left cheek all the way down to her throat. "Take a seat." she said with a voice as hard as the blunt shock maul dangling at her side. Word was that she had once taken the weapon from a regulator, Adeptus Arbites, but no one had the balls to actually ask her about it, so it remained a bit of a mystery, which only attributed to her renown. Parcivale sat down and looked up at her, wondering what Nowak's right hand was doing here. He had never spoken much with her. There hadn't been a reason to do so. He had no business with her so he felt a bit uncomfortable with the woman here. If she felt uneasy though, she didn't show it. "So. What do you think about that last meeting?" Parcivale hesitated, wondering what Elyna was aiming at, but the woman kept staring at him, waiting for an answer. So he made a reasonable guess what the woman was talking about. Probably Whisper's news. "Well... It's double I suppose. The Raptors are out of the way, which isn't a bad thing I suppose. But on the other hand, it makes you wonder who had the guts and power to take them out." Elyna frowned, her blank expression now replaced with dissatisfaction. "Think harder." she said bluntly. Parcivale wished he had other places to be. He had some ideas about what had happened to the Raptors, but he wasn't really willing to discuss them. Not with Janina and not with Elyna. He had been trying hard not to think about what had happened at the Widow's lair ever since he had managed to get away unscathed. He could see though that his unwillingness to talk was frustrating Nowak's right hand. And there wasn't anything good that could come out of that. "So, you're not gonna talk about it?" the woman asked angrily, "Well, even if you don't want to discuss it. I will. There's something up with Nowak. And don't tell me you didn't notice." Parcivale was taken aback. When she had knocked on his door, he had feared that she had picked up on his malcontendness with the boss. If she had come to confront him about that, he would have had a serious problem. It was very easy for anyone to mistake malcontendness with disloyalty. And disloyalty was one of the most dangerous things within a gang. Parcivale remembered how he himself had once executed another Jester who had started his own business on the side. There had been no leniency, no mercy.

So Parcivale decided to stall. "What are you talking about? It's the boss. What's there to notice?" Elyna scowled. "Are you friggin blind? He didn't seem concerned, at all, by Whisper's news. No. Quite the contrary. He actually laughed about it. Found it funny. I'm telling you Hammer. He's changing." Parcivale shook his head. He didn't get this at all. If anything, it was Elyna who was showing signs of disloyalty. 'Questioning Nowak's behaviour? That seems to be one of the best ways to get yourself in trouble.' he thought. "I don't know, Elyna. I can't say that I noticed. Why are you talking to me about this?" She took a step in his direction, her eyes boring themselves in his. "Because you're one of his bodyguards, so you're close to him. But you haven't been with him for years like Martin and Tanya who no longer notice anything about him. So you might have seen what I'm talking about." Martin and Tanya were the other two gangers in charge of Nowak's security and although Parcivale liked them well enough, they weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer. Parcivale stood up and turned away from the woman, breaking eye contact. "Well... I didn't," he lied, "Have you talked to the other ringleaders? If you're right, I would think they would have noticed first." That made her shut up. 'So, you're asking me, because I'm a small fry, easy to take out of the game. But asking other ringleaders. Far more risky, right?' Parcivale thought and now he felt angry for being played. Elyna took a step back and seemed to compose herself, but Parcivale could still see that she was angry with him. "Alright," she said, "You've said your piece. I'll keep it in mind." She turned to the door and grabbed the handle and then turned back. "If anything of this conversation leaks back to Nowak, I'll know who to talk to. Is that clear?" Parcivale nodded his head. Anything else might have meant the death of him.

After Elyna's departure, Parcivale laid down on his bed, thinking everything over. There were a lot of things to worry about: the raid on the Raptors and the potential link with the Widow, the possibility Nowak was turning bad and finally, his new relationship with Elyna. 'Too much for you to figure out, Hammer.' Parcivale thought. He closed his eyes and was overcome with sleep.


	7. Chapter 7: Lödz

Parcivale was nervous. Although he was on Jester territory, an abandoned Ecclesiarchy shrine, he felt uneasy. That had everything to do with his present company, standing across him in the shadowry nave of the chapel. The flickering candle light - they used the little stumps that the priests and parishoners had left - only lit up their faces sporadicly, but that was enough to see that their 'guests' weren't typical underhivers. The colour of their skin indicated that they saw actual daylight from time to time and their accents betrayed them as uphivers as well. And although they wore dirty coveralls, Parcivale could see that they hadn't gone to the trouble to find matching shoes. Together with the noble outlook of their faces - some of them could have been models for some of the saintly statues in the church - it all pointed at foreigners and Parcivale had to wonder why fancy foreigners would want a business meeting with the Jesters. And despite Elyna's worries, Nowak seemed to be of the same mind as he was hidden in the sacristy adjacent to the shrine's nave. Which was the reason for Parcivale's presence. Martin and Tanya were with the boss himself.

Lödz was doing all the talking. When Whisper had received the message that some uptown trader wanted a sit-down, Nowak had decided that it would be him that did the negotiations. In fact, Nowak was only there to seal the deal if that would be necessary. Elyna had argued against his presence, but Nowak had just continued playing with his staff and told her that he had heard her council but that it hadn't changed his mind. "So, gentlemen, you can see that we are a trustworthy partner, well placed to become your associates in your... endeavour of bringing your product to the underhive." Parcivale's eyes went over the 'businessmen' for the twentieth time. He could spot various hidden weapons - pistols and daggers - on them, not to mention the fact that two of their supposed guards were carrying their equipment in plain sight. The weapons looked like good quality dual barrel lasguns, which was better than the regular Guard-issue lasguns, which meant in turn that these fellows had thrones to spare. The leader of the group, a young man with a brown mullet and a golden ring in his right ear who had presented himself as Nathan, tried to look satisfied, but underneath his smile, Parcivale could see that the man was nervous. Or impatient. It didn't really add up. Essentially they had asked Lödz whether the Jesters could be their mules and distribute _bängd_ in the undercity and although the Jesters hardly had any experiene with narcotics, Lödz had jumped at the opportunity, accepting their commission rates without negotiating. In Parcivale's book, their visitors had every reason to be happy... except that they weren't.

"So, we can sign of on this?" Nathan asked. "We need your boss to sign off on this." Lödz gave the man a mean smile. "What tells you that you're not talking to the man?" But the man with the mullet shook his head. "Are you Nowak of the Jesters? I doubt that." Now Parcivale became even more wary. They should just be happy with a deal, not fussing about who was signing off on this. A thought that also occured to Lödz. "Alright. Maybe I'm not. But I talk for him. Anything I say, will be honoured." Nathan shook his head and the other men of his company became restless. Clearly, this wasn't what they had expected. "Just fetch him already." Nathan said dismissively, which was just the thing you needed to do to infuriate Lödz. Immediately the man started arguing angrily, questioning the deal they had just struck. Just the distraction Parcivale needed to slink away in the shadows of the chapel. It now was clear that Nowak's presence was all they were after. Which meant that bringing the boss here had been a mistake. As soon as he had put a thick pillar behind himself and their guests, Parcivale activated his microbead, telling Tanya to extract Nowak as quickly as possible. When he moved back into the light, he saw that he'd made another mistake. The other party was slowly spreading out, making sure they weren't a single target. Lödz didn't seem to realize this. Worse, he just seemed to accept his defeat and put his hands up in front of his body, palms open, in a calming motion. "Alright. Alright. I see you're one of those frigs who doesn't take no for an answer. I'll go get him." There was nothing Parcivale could do. Lödz turned away from Nathan and took his first steps towards the sacristy. As he turned his back towards Lödz, a cold look of determination appeared on Nathan's face. Parcivale did the numbers too. Nathan had been acccompanied by the two guards and another three associates who were all armed with pistols, daggers and knives. On his side, there were the three bodyguards, Lödz and his entourage, four sturdy gangers, but Parcivale knew that these were mostly for show in Lödz' extortion shams. They weren't real fighters like Sharenya's bunch.

Nathan followed Lödz to the small wooden door and the Jester ringleader finally became aware that something was wrong. He turned around at the door and was a bit surprised with the close presence of Nathan. Lödz threw his ridiculous red cape over his shoulder and looked indignified. "I'll go look for the boss. You stay here. Got it?" Parcivale saw what was coming and tiger leaped behind a solid stone pillar. He pulled his autopistol from behind his belt and aimed for the brown mullet, but it was too late for Lödz. The man was opening and closing his mouth like a fish on dry land and Parcivale noticed that Nathan had jammed something into Lödz' belly, right up to his fist. He fired off a shot, but the man had turned away a fraction of a second earlier, causing the slug to miss him and plow itself right into Lödz' face. If he hadn't been killed by the knife, Parcivale's shot finished him off. All hell broke loose in the shrine. The characteristic snapping sound of lasfire echoed through the nave of the church, and pieces of the grey stone pillar Parcivale was hiding behind, were torn of, showering him in stone splinters and dust. The Jester didn't return fire, but instead focused on the figure of the leader, peppering the fleeing figure with another three shots. His tenacity was rewarded when one of the bullets went through the man's leg, knocking him prone. But staying at his position also cost Parcivale as the suppressing fire intensified. Apart from the cracking of the dual barreled lasguns, he could also pick out the clacking sound of a light stub automatic.

"Suppress the frigs! Suppress 'm!" Parcivale yelled, not panicking yet, although he could feel adrenaline rushing through his veins. 'What the frig are the others doing?' he thought and tried to catch a glimpse of the other Jesters. He saw two soon enough, laying in the centre aisle between the remaining pews of the chapel. Apparently they had been taken by surprise, just like their ringleader. Which left only two other gangers. Parcivale no longer had the time to look for them as he saw one of the riflemen storm by his left side, counting on the covering fire of his comrades, to flank him. Parcivale switched to semi-auto fire and timed his shots carefully so he'd hit the man as he would appear between the shrine's pillars. He fired off a volley, holding his gun with two hands to keep it level as it bucked. He'd anticipated correctly and two of his bullets hit the man. The first one was deflected by his armoured bodyglove, but the second one went in right under his neck. His momentum made him crash into the next pillar sliding down against it towards the floor.

"What's happening Hammer? Respond!" Parcivale only now realized someone was shouting in his ear over the vox. He recognized Martin's voice although it was distorted by stress. Parcivale kept looking left and right, trying to spot friends and enemies. "They're coming for the boss. Get him out!" He fired off a last volley, aiming around the pillar, making one of the enemies duck for cover and emptying his magazine. With a practiced and fluid motion he grabbed one of the four spare clips from his belt and slid it into the autopistol. As he did so, he heard someone cry out, but he couldn't tell whether it was one of Nathan's pack or another one of Lödz' men. The fire on his position became less intense and for a second he contemplated running towards the door of the sacristy. It was perhaps fifteen metres away and during the first ten metres of the way he would still benefit from good cover from another two thick stone pillars. His objective was to rejoin Nowak's group after all. But every few seconds his position was peppered again with lasfire and although Parcivale had never liked those las spitting broomsticks, he did know that their clips would last far longer than any decent stubber. 'Frigging _brateks_ with their weak ass guns.' At that point, someone entered his sight on his right. The man had ran from the chapel's gate and skidded to a halt behind the pillar right next to Parcivale's. Now, that pillar was fired upon, both solid shells as lasfire. Parcivale aimed his gun at him, but he lowered the barrel of his pistol when he recognized another Jester. The man looked scared out of his mind, pale face and trembling hands, barely holding on to his simple stub revolver. 'Not much use then.' Parcivale thought, until he spotted the frag grenade on the man's belt. He didn't know just why the Jester had the thing, but he didn't care. It could turn this mess around.

Parcivale pointed at the grenade and made a throwing gesture, but clearly the man didn't understand as he looked questioningly at his revolver and then back at Parcivale. 'The idiot is going to throw his gun at me.' Parcivale shook his head forcefully. If he would call out for the grenade, the others might disperse. He pointed at his own belt, but he couldn't see if the man got it, because at that point, someone tried to reach the sacristy again. A quick look confirmed that it was one of Nathan's associates and Parcivale hurriedly fired of another semi-auto burst. The man ducked, but kept running and before Parcivale could deftly aim, he was through the door. "Frig!" Parcivale cursed before activating his microbead. "There's one coming after you Martin." He didn't wait for an answer and focused his attention back on the other Jester. Apparently he had understood Parcivale's meaning as he now held the grenade in his right hand. Parcivale gave him an approving nod, making a pumping motion with his arm. "Throw it" he mouthed at the Jester even as the suppressing fire withered and then stopped. 'They're going to displace.' Parcivale thought and made the motion again to convince the man of leaving his cover and throwing the thing. The ganger seemed to muster all his courage and stood up, pressing his back firmly against the column, but he still hesitated to look around the corner. Parcivale sighed and then led by example, rolling to his right and firing off another volley blindly, hoping to keep the enemy pinned. As the shots rang off the walls and arches of the chapel, the other man finally stepped out of his cover and looked for a target. Parcivale realized the man was too slow, taking too much time to pinpoint the enemy. "Throw it!" he yelled. "Now!" But it was too late, from another pillar across the centre isle, came a concentrated burst of las fire, cutting through the ganger as a hot knife through butter. A second later, the sharp tacking noise from an autopistol joined the cracking noise of the lasgun and Parcivale could see how the first slug shattered the Jester's right arm and then he was blinded by a bright flash and felt a burning sting of pain just above his ankle. The second slug had hit the grenade with an obvious result. Parcivale realized that this was his chance to escape, so he stormed out of his cover, making it to the door of the sacristy without being fired upon, his adversaries too surprised or fazed by the explosion to react in time. He ignored the impact of the bullets in the door as he charged on, instead keeping his eyes open for the man that had managed to reach the sacristy earlier. The chamber, with walls made from the same grey stones as the pillars, only had one other exit, another wooden door that stood wide open and led to a small crypt. Both the chamber and the hallway to the crypt were deserted.

The gunfire behind him seemed to wither down which could only mean that whatever opposition Nathan's men still faced, was minimal and Parcivale realized that they would be on to him far too quickly if he didn't do anything. He was about to run down the hallway into the crypt, but a last look at the door made him reconsider. The thing didn't have a conventional lock, but it was equipped with a heavy bolt. With four quick steps he ran back to the door, shooting wildly into the chapel while grabbing the door's edge with his off hand. Only a cry of pain made him realize that he had actually hit something and as he pulled the door shut, he saw another one of Nathan's men laying on the floor, grabbing his leg with both hands while his fellow was scrambling to cover. There was no more time left for another shot to finish the wounded man off. Instead he rammed the bolt in the stone cut-away which would lock it. Parcivale turned on his heels and sprinted towards the crypts, activating his microbead to get an update from Martin. He got nothing but static, which wasn't reassuring. He ran onwards, following little signs in white chalk on the walls of the crypt, only barely visible in the dim light coming from the few remaining lumen globes that were still functioning down here. The crypts under the chapel weren't very large, but to someone who didn't know his way around, they could sure feel like a maze. Parcivale didn't know whether Nathan's man had gotten lost already, but he wasn't taking any chances, keeping his autopistol at the ready and briefly taking cover every time he wanted to round a corner. He tried to keep his breathing under control, but still gasped when a loud bang rang through the crypts. Someone had found the other exit. Now the question remained who. Carefully Parcivale continued on his path through the shadows.


	8. Chapter 8: Rescue

A couple of tense minutes later, he came at the little staircase leading out of the crypts and he entered the solemn little shrine that served as the main entrance to the crypts. Outside lay a small graveyard - not many inhabitants of the hive were so fortunate to get a final resting place. Inside the shrine, there were no lumen globes. The only light came from the crack under the double wooden doors of the single room building. Parcivale tried to vox again, but neither Martin, nor Tanya replied. 'Perhaps their microbeads aren't functioning.' he thought, but at the same time he knew he was deluding himself. The other two bodyguards hadn't been picked for the position because they were sloppy with their equipment. He pauzed for a second, wondering what to do. He didn't hear anyone approaching from below, but he couldn't stay there. And he shouldn't either. His job was to find Nowak and protect him. If he was still alive. Parcivale shook his head to shake that last thought and gently pushed the door open. As it swung open, it bumped into something, making it impossible to open it any further without applying more force. Parcivale just left it at that and squeezed through the foot wide gap, sidestepping whatever lay in front of the door, right into a puddle of blood. The source of it was obvious. Tanya's body lay spread out on the stone steps in front of the shrine, still bleeding from half a dozen wounds. Immediately Parcivale dived for cover, rolling from the stairs towards the base of a mansized statue of the Emperor Grieving that stood in front of the shrine, but the shots he expected didn't come. Cautiously he looked around the stone socle, trying to get a bead on his target.

The yard before the shrine was deserted and dark. The artificial hive night had already fallen and Parcivale could just barely make out the iron fence that marked the boundaries of the small brown patch amidst the multistory habblocks all around it. He didn't spot any movement and wondered where Martin and Nowak might have retreated to. If they had been ambushed here at the exit of the shrine, they would be smart enough not to return to the lair directly. And as he couldn't see any other bodies laying around that might have shot Tanya, he presumed that they were hot on Nowak's heels. He had noticed that she hadn't been shot in the back, so it hadn't been Nathan's man that had made it to the crypt. 'So where the frig did they go?' Mentally, Parcivale checked off all the Jesters' safe houses. There were two options that were reasonably close. One lay to the north of the shrine and one to the west. He'd have to chose. He cursed softly under his breath. He shouldn't stay here. The enemy might find a way through the crypts and if Nowak still lived, every second he waited, was another one in which he could bite it. Parcivale had just decided that he would go north, when the sound of gunfire washed over the yard. Even though the automatic fire echoed from the habs around him, Parcivale's senses told him to go north indeed. He sprinted through the northern gate of the yard, pushing open the light iron fence without effort, and darted towards one of the alleyways between the habblocks leading north. The sound of the stubber grew louder and Parcivale realized that the shooter was probably closer than he had expected. And he wanted to avoid running into enemy fire if at all possible, especially since a cracking sound indicated that someone was putting lasfire in the mix, which meant that Parcivale probably would be outnumbered.

His eye fell on a fire ladder and one quick running jump later, he was climbing the rusty thing to the top of the five story building. As he came to the top, he thought he could make out the barking of Martin's Infernis autopistol, its bigger calibre causing a more impressive booming sound than the stubber or the lasrifle. Without pauze he ran to the north edge of the roof, falling flat before slowly sticking out his head. Fifty feet below him, he saw the signs of a prolonged firefight. There was a lot of covering fire, but little movement. Tracing the lasfire revealed both the attacker's and the defender's position. The two sides were both holed up in shops on the ground floor of the habblocks facing each other. Nathan's band had taken cover in between a tailor's mannequins, while Martin was taking potshots from behind the counter of a potter's shop, each time the suppressing fire stopped. Parcivale couldn't see Nowak and wondered whether he was still with Martin. At least he couldn't spot his bleeding corpse either, unlike a more unfortunate enemy who was laying in the middle of the street, although the woman was still writhing and pressed both her hands on a wound in her belly. For a second, Parcivale wondered what to do. He tried the vox again, but still got nothing but static and he cursed the machine spirits housing in the little device for malfunctioning at such a critical time.

Suddenly, another intense barrage was fired from the tailor's shop, peppering Martin's position with slugs and lasfire alike. Martin ducked and therefore didn't see how two enemies, carrying oversized chainaxes, used the covering fire to run from cover to cover, crossing the street towards the potter's store. Unaware of Parcivale's presence, they left their back open at him. Parcivale brought his autopistol to the fore and followed the first man, capping him as he crouched down beside a derelict ground car. Parcivale had left his silencer at the lair though, so the kill didn't go unnoticed and the other man that had attempted to reach Martin, turned on his heels and sprinted back to the presumed safety of the tailor's store. Parcivale didn't even try to shoot him, but instead slowly crept back, hoping that no one had spotted him. To be safe, he switched position and laid down a stonethrow further on the flat roof of the habblock. But as soon as he showed his face, the thick black stone of the habblock lit up with lasfire impacts. Parcivale barely saw that the remaining man with the chainaxe was making another attempt to cross the street, now counting on just the man with the stubber to keep Martin down. Parcivale cursed as he realized that it would take a while to get into a better position, but there was nothing else to do but to take the fire ladder back to the street level. In the meanwhile, Martin would have to stand his ground on his own. As he reached the third floor, he heard the sound of the Infernis, a quick staccato that indicated that Martin had switched to automatic fire, and a clear sign that the enemy was closing in. As he hit the deck, Parcivale heard a more vicious sound, ringing off the facades of the habblocks. It was a sound any gunman hated. The rugged, ripping sound of a chainweapon. It meant your enemy was too close and that you should prepare yourself for hand-to-hand combat; And then you could praise yourself lucky you were fighting with a pistol which gave you at least a small chance of finishing the fight in your advantage.

Parcivale sprinted through the alleyway, leading to the street were the fight was taking place, but as he came to the corner, he heard Martin crying out in pain, but his screaming ended just as quickly as it had begun. The revving of the chainaxe stopped and with it the gunfire too. The Jester pressed his back against the brick wall, holding his gun two-handedly before him, considering his options. If the fight was over, there was no reason to storm in and get himself killed too. But he still hadn't seen a trace of Nowak. He crouched down, hiding in the shadows of the dark alleyway as the sound of hasty footsteps passed him by on the street. He got a glimpse of a double-barreled lasrifle, just like the ones Nathan's guards had used. He was about to slink away into the shadows of the alleyway to try make it back to the lair, when suddenly the revving of the chainaxe assaulted his eardrums again at full power. He heard yelling and the stubber started barking again. Now, Parcivale didn't hesitate and looked around the corner, with stretched arms, keeping his pistol straight before him. In a reflex he shot the man with the lasrifle right in the face as he was running back from the potter's shop. It was only then that he could focus on whatever was transpiring in the front of the little shop. The racket of shattered ceramics resounded across the street and Parcivale could now see what was causing it. Nowak himself wielded his staff and trailed it above his head in wide circles, caring not for whatever he hit. The man with the chainaxe tried to knock it out of Nowak's hands, but a fraction of a second later, he got the end of the staff against his temple, sending him spinning arond his axis before crashing to the floor amidst the clay shards. The man with the stubber now wielded the weapon as an improvised club, but didn't seem inclined to actually use it for more than fending of Nowak. Parcivale didn't dare shoot him out of fear of hitting Nowak - the two men were circling one another - and instead closed the distance, crouching down next to the corpse of the first melee combattant who he'd shot from the roof. He rested his arms on the hood of the ground car, ready to give it a go. "Break boss! Break!" But Nowak either didn't hear him, or just ignored him completely. Parcivale saw a vicious smile on his face and he actually seemed to enjoy himself. In fact, now Parcivale could observe the fight for a few seconds, it became clear that Nowak was toying with the other man, feinting, giving the man the opportunity to break from the fight, only to step in a second later to threaten him again.

Parvicale quickly checked his surroundings - something he should have done earlier - but couldn't spot any other hostile forces, but apart from a few civvies who were brave, or stupid, enough to peer down from the edge of their window, there seemed to be no one to join the fight. Parcivale refocused his attention back on his boss and cursed softly without realizing itself. Nowak had manoeuvred himself to face the street, forcing the other man backwards until he would stumble over the sill of the shattered shop window. Which meant that Parcivale had a clean shot on the enemy's back. But instead of putting a bullet in between the man's shoulders, he stared open-mouthed at his boss. From his eyes shone a faint greenish light and the smile on his face had changed into a twisted sneer which seemed to express his complete satisfaction with this victory over his powerless adversary. The spell broke as the man indeed fell backwards, head over feet, and crashed onto the crooked pavement. And instead of simply crushing the man's head like he had done with his other opponent, Nowak stepped on the windowsill and jumped in the air, turning his staff in midair, clutching it in both hands, to land on the other man's chest, impaling him with the staff. A foul laugh rolled over Nowak's lips and Parcivale could swear that the same faint green light that had shone from Nowak's eyes, now shimmered around the weapon.

With that, silence fell over the battlefield. Parcivale held his position, unsure of what to expect. He studied Nowak's face, but the shimmering around the weapon and the light from his eyes was now gone and it would be easy to think that he had imagined it. However, somewhere deep at the back of his head, alarms were still ringing. The staff had been the weapon of the Widow herself. Contrary to Janina, Parcivale still didn't like to speculate about the true nature of that old foe. He watched how Nowak's expression returned to normal and only the heavy breathing gave away that he had just fought off three men without taking a scratch. He also heard Elyna's words about how Nowak had supposedly changed. Parcivale didn't know whether he wanted to continue pondering his boss' mental state. The choice was taken out of his hands as Nowak adressed him. "How about we get the frig out of here, Hammer? That deal went sour very quickly. You know what happened back at the chapel?" Parcivale stood and closed the distance to Nowak with a few, hesitant steps. Nowak raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on it. "They were there for you boss. Not to seal some deal. They knew you by name and they insisted on speaking to you."

As the adrenaline was leaving his system, Parcivale realized that their position could hardly be called secure. He looked around and although no other hostiles presented themselves, he would feel a lot better if they were of the streets. "We should move, boss." Nowak nodded. "Martin was taking me to the LC-station." Parcivale's intuition had been correct as the lightning car terminal was the closest Jester safehouse in the neighbourhood. Parcivale nodded approvingly and broke into a jog. The sooner they left this place, the better their chances to throw off any pursuers. Nowak picked up the pace and ran at Parcivale's right side, in between the bodyguard and the habblocks' fronts. "So, who did we lose, apart from Martin and Tanya?" Parcivale couldn't detect any regrets in Nowak's voice. "Lödz. And I'm guessing all of his men." Nowak whisseled through his teeth. "Frig. That's a big hit."

Parcivale remained silent and kept his thoughts to himself. The loss of Lödz, a few of his crew and two bodyguards was a big hit, but it wasn't nearly enough to put the entire gang in danger. There would be plenty of takers for Lödz position and Sharenya could spare some heavy hitters to take Martin and Tanya's place. 'But, the question is whether we're still under attack.' Parcivale thought. Apparently Nowak was thinking the same thing. "Who have we got at the LC station? Anyone we can send out to take a peek at the lair?" Parcivale rounded a corner and pointed at another alleyway. Then shrugged and answered truthfully. "Don't know boss." Nowak didn't comment on that and a quick sideways glance revealed that he was lost in thoughts as they continued to jog towards the safehouse.


	9. Chapter 9: Safehouse

Ten minutes later, they laid eyes on the squat and gloomy LC-station. The lightning car network was still operational, which was the salvation of most honest Kraskow civvies who lived around here. After all, there weren't that many honest jobs to be found in these parts, if any. So most of the civvies worked in one of the manufactoria some levels up where the enforcers were powerful enough to keep most of the gangs out. A few of them went even further up, working as the lower staff of some of the richer civvies living mid hive. If the LC's wouldn't be operational, all that would stop and people would be stuck here. Some of the gangs would love to see that happen, thinking that there would be plenty of easy prey to be caught - desperate people do make terrible choices - but Nowak wasn't one of them. And Parcivale didn't disagree with him. The civvies that worked higher up, brought down with them hard needed coin for the local economy. After all, with what they made, they could hardly afford buying anything in the mid hive, let alone the upper hive. The cashflow made sure that some of the basic amenities were still in steady supply at the Jester's level of the hive. And although Nowak conceded that desperate people made for worse negotiators, they mostly were desperate because they were left with nothing. And you can't extort, rob or steal anything from a beggar.

Which is why the Jesters kept a very low profile at the LC-station and sometimes even functioned as a de facto security force, beating up small time criminals who tried to pick on the civvies using the transport network. Just enough to discourage them from trying again, but not hard enough to cause disturbances that would frighten the civvies. It was also the main reason why they had hidden their safehouse deep within the bowels of the maintenance rooms. The Jesters had created three paths towards the safehouse, but they were all subtly indicated, meaning you only found them if you knew where to look. Parcivale led the way through the service tunnels right under the tracks of the station. The place was clean enough although a trained eye could see signs of neglect: rusty valves and the occasional leaking pipe. The Mechanicus performed only the bare necessities in terms of maintenance, but the cleaning servitors were still programmed to do their work flawlessly. Parcivale pointed at himself and then at the next corner, not bothering trying to speak as one of the lightning car trains rumbled over them, making sure both Nowak and his bodyguard got covered with oily dirt particles. Nowak nodded once and stayed put, comfortably leaning on his staff as if he hadn't been ambushed.

Parcivale went around the corner, checking it with his pistol, before taking another few paces towards a ventilation grate. Reaching through the slits with his fingers, he found the little screwdriver the Jesters had left there to take out the few remaining screws of the grate. Half a minute later, he gently put it aside and squirmed his way into the vent shaft. He would need to crawl on his belly and find his way in the dark, but he'd still picked this way in, because it was the most secluded one. Even though there had been no signs of pursuit, he didn't want to risk anything. And a few minutes later it appeared he had been right to do so. A familiar smell reached him as he got near the Jester hideout and he didn't need to look through the grate to know what it was. Blood had been spilled in the room beyond. And not just a bit. Nevertheless, Parcivale persisted and soon enough he was able to evaluate the scene: the bodies of two Jesters lay on the ground, both decapitated, the heads seemingly casually ripped off as if some fearsome beast had gotten a hold on it. Another body lay slumped against one of the walls, this one too covered in deep gashes and missing an arm and half a leg. Parcivale swallowed. He hadn't been prepared for this. He felt his heartbeat going up rapidly and he had to concentrate not to start hyperventilating. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. 'You're still alive. No one is on your trail. You can survive around here... You're stronger than the gang.' After a minute or so, he opened his eyes again and peered through the grate again. The room beyond was lit by a single lumenglobe hanging from the ceiling. Parcivale didn't look at the bodies of the gangers, but instead went over the rest of the room, trying to find signs of who, or rather what, had caused this massacre. The whole scene made him think of Whisper's report on the hit on the Raptor's base. In retrospect, they might have been hit by the same thing that was going after the Jesters. Nathan's bunch had seemed normal enough, but who knew what other assets he had. He had been smart enough to lay another ambush at the end of their escape route. Still, Parcivale wondered. The wounds on his fellow ganger's were more brutal than those of a chain weapon. The bodies weren't merely carved up. It seemed like someone had tore away the missing bodyparts.

Parcivale shook his head. He needed to focus at the job at hand: getting Nowak to safety. Not breaking his head over who was responsible for this mess. In the room below him, he could see some stolen filing cabinets the Jesters had placed here. They seemed to be untouched so there was a good chance that the supplies and spare ammo were still there. They might not find more manpower down here, but at least Parcivale would be able to grab a few clips for his autopistol. Maybe even getting his hands on a rifle of some sort. Same went for Nowak who was only armed with his staff. Parcivale was reasonably sure that there was no one here anymore, but he waited another two minutes, weighing of the risk of someone bumping into Nowak under the tracks against the risk of missing someone's presence here. After laying there in the stench of the blood for something which seemed like an eternity, Parcivale started crawling backwards on his way to Nowak.

"So. Are we good to go?" Nowak asked, when Parcivale came back around the corner. Parcivale just nodded, but something must have given away his current state of mind. "Frig. What is it Hammer?" Parcivale beckoned Nowak to follow him as he walked back to the vent. "This place got hit too. Badly." he said. "Very badly." he whispered more to himself than to his boss. "But we're still going there?" Nowak asked, not sounding too concerned, just curious. Parcivale nodded again before replying. "Seems like they're gone boss. We can use the supplies they got there. But if this place got knocked over too..." Nowak finished the sentence, "then there are no more certainties." Parcivale looked over his shoulder, but he still couldn't see any signs of concern on Nowak's face. Once more he thought of Elyna's words. And felt a pang of guilt for dismissing her so easily. 'Nothing to do about that now, Hammer.'

A few minutes later they both stood in the middle of the small room, the floor sticky with the coagulated blood. Parcivale went through the cabinets and found the expected clips together with an autogun which was loaded with man-stopper rounds. He offered the gun to Nowak who, without a ranged weapon, was pretty much useless in a shootout. Nowak looked at the gun disparagingly but Parcivale held his ground and nudged it in the direction of his leader. With an annoyed sigh the bald man took the gun, and swung it over one of his broad shoulders, holding out his hand for the spare ammo that came with it. Parcivale suspected Nowak just wasn't eager to switch out his staff for another weapon. 'Stupid _szeroki_' Parcivale thought and wondered why Nowak hadn't brought a gun to the fight to begin with. Perhaps if he had been able to lay down a base of fire, Martin might have survived the ambush.

"We should look for information on the enemy." Parcivale said, "Anything that can help us to id these _dràn_. We need to send a frigging signal." Nowak laughed derisively. "Always the optimist, eh Hammer?" Parcivale looked up, surprised. It was one thing that Nowak remained stone cold under the ambush and the loss of his fellow Jesters, but another thing to dismiss the need for vengeance. And it wasn't that Nowak sounded scared or that he feared of not being able to finish the job. As Parcivale's eyes went over Nowak's face - blue eyes under light brown brows, a thick and blunt nose and thin pinkish lips - he only saw contempt mixed with boredom. He didn't understand but was getting fed up with the attitude. "Or not." he said to Nowak. Before the boss could react, both men heard a sound coming from the hallway that led to the maintenance room. Immediately Parcivale unholstered his pistol and took three steps towards the side of the door, pressing his back against the wall and getting ready to cap the first person that would enter. Nowak, as graceful as the bulky man could be, mirrored Parcivale's movement and stood against the wall at the other side of the open door. The autogun was still on his back and he held the staff with both hands in the middle, ready to use it in the little room. Both men pricked their ears, trying to discern what was coming. It didn't take long for Parcivale to realize what he was hearing: a couple - three, perhaps four - men were sneaking through the hallway, trying to be quiet, but they mustn't have been the most adroit bunch because occasionally he heard boots scraping over the rockcrete floor. He also discerned the squeeking sound of flak coats being compressed and at one point, a soft ring of metal on stone, probably a weapon clinging against the wall. 'Probably Nathan's men. But why would they return here?' Parcivale thought as he reaffirmed his grip on the butt of his pistol. Then, he made out another sound. The men were dragging something with them. Something heavy as he heard someone grunting in effort now that they came closer to his position.

He was just getting ready to step out of cover to confirm his findings, and probably act upon it by shooting them in the face, when someone broke the silence by moaning. "There... it... is..." The voice sounded weak, cracked, much like a man that had been put to the test. Parcivale had beaten quite a few men and women into submission over the years he spend in the gang and they all sounded the same when they broke down. A quick thudding sound, followed by another grunt, indicated that whoever was being dragged along, got an extra taste of the same medicine. "Right. Go check it. If there's anyone there, this gonner just gave us away." This voice Parcivale recognized instantly. It had only been a couple of hours since he had last heard the man speak: Nathan. He looked over at Nowak and made a quick handsign for enemy. Nowak only replied with a voracious smile, surprising Parcivale again before the man ran through the door and out of sight. "Frig!" Parcivale cursed and he leaned out of the doorway ready to give his boss covering fire. In the cramped, straight hallway there wasn't much Parcivale could do though. Nowak ran in his field of fire and Parcivale could only see glimpses of the three or perhaps four gangers. Nathan stood out of the little group as the only one without a helmet. Not that the others could benefit much from their protective headware. Nowak spun his staff around in his hands and smashed an end against the first man's temple. Parcivale decided to break cover and followed the boss. Perhaps if he would stay close, he would be able to get a clean line of fire. Even though that meant that he would have to take care not to get mauled himself by one of Nowak's reckless swings. As Nowak used his staff to crash the next ganger into the wall, crushing his wind pipe with a quick follow-up strike against his throat, Parcivale had to throw himself agaist the floor. The third man, which stood with his legs spread out over their unfortunate source of information, had opened fire with his double-barreled lasgun. The red flashes only missed Parcivale by a hair's width.

Perhaps the las fire was enough to bring Nowak to his senses, because instead of continuing his fearless charge, he pressed himself against the wall, keeping the body of his suffocating opponent between himself and the rifleman. Parcivale took the chance and fired of a semi-auto burst down the corridor. Two of the four bullets went wide, one ricocheting of a metal pipe, causing a water leak right next to the enemy's prisoner. The other two struck the rifleman in the chest and the crotch. Parcivale saw how the man first got the wind blown out of him and then doubled over, dropping his gun and pressing both hands on his belly. As if they had fought together for years, Nowak instantly started sprinting towards the last man standing, Nathan, and used his staff as a lance. In the shadowry corridor, Parcivale thought he could see the same green light as before, coming of the staff, just as Nowak rammed the weapon's tip in Nathan's belly. Despite his wounded leg - Parcivale could see that he had a field bandage around the leg he had shot - Nathan managed to roll backwards avoiding getting skewered. And with a swipe of his good leg, he brought down Nowak as well. Parcivale got up from the floor, but was sure that Nowak would make short work of the man. But instead he saw how the boss - sitting on top of Nathan, a knee at each side of him - stubbornly kept hold of the staff with one hand, using the other to try and restrain Nathan. Even with his wounded leg, Nathan was a match for a man who crippled himself by holding on to a useless weapon. The man punched Nowak in the face, using his other hand to grab him by his ear and pulling him to the side, destabilizing him. Parcivale didn't have a clean shot and started running towards the two embattled men. He cried out when he saw Nathan pulling his knife from his belt, warning Nowak. The boss still didn't lose the staff, but reacted effectively by delivering a vicious head-butt to Nathan's nose, ruining his patrician features. Still, the man kept hold of his knife and pressed his forearm against Nowak's throat to avoid getting hit like that again. At that point Parcivale was onto them and kicked at the knife, hitting Nathan's wrist. With a fluid motion, he pressed his autopistol against the man's shoulder and fired of another semi-auto burst. The bullets cut through muscle and tendons alike. The next second, the hand with the knife went limp as most of the nerves in the arm were thoroughly ruined. The man gave up his resistance, dropping his bleading head on the rockcrete floor.


	10. Chapter 10: Whisper

Now that the battle was over, Parcivale held out his hand at Nowak, offering to pull him up, but when the boss didn't take it, Parcivale looked down at him. He almost wanted to ask whether he was hurt, but then he realized that Nowak was wrestling with himself. He had put the staff's butt on Nathan's chest, right over his heart. A grim smile was chiseled on his bloodied face, but in his eyes Parcivale thought he could see joy. "He's neutralized, boss. Come on." But Nowak ignored him. The staff pressed harder on Nathan's ribcage. Parcivale implored his boss again. "Boss! He might know what's up." But although his reasoning was sound - and Nowak would have recognized that in the past - the boss of the Jesters didn't remove the staff. On the contrary. He put both his hands around the shaft and put his weight on the staff. Nathan halfheartedly put his good hand around it, trying to force the weapon of his chest, but the wounded man didn't stand a chance. Parcivale's eyes crossed with his and he could see that the man was giving up. He just wanted to give a tug at Nowak's shoulder, when Nathan's ribcage broke and the staff went full force through his heart. The man didn't even have the chance to cry out in pain. He was dead in an instant. What Parcivale heard instead, was a soft chuckle. It made him feel cold to the bone just as well. Parcivale turned away from the two men and stepped towards the prisoner the intruders had dragged along. He was laying on his belly, his clothes soaked as the water from the bust pipe still leaked on him. Parcivale grabbed the man by the shoulders and pulled him a little further, out of the pool, turning him around. He almost yelled out. The face from the man was a familiar one. "Boss! It's Whisper!" he said at the Jester that still sat on Nathan's corpse. He pulled the man up against his chest and looked him over. His face was black and blue from all the punches he had got and his left ankle was laying in an unnatural hook. Parcivale could tell that the rest of his body was sore too, as Whisper squirmed continuously to find a comfortable position.

"What happened?" Parcivale whispered, although he didn't know why. Whisper tried to reply with a dry, hoarse voice, but couldn't make himself understandable. "Boss," Parcivale called out again to Nowak, "Boss. Could you get him some water?" But Nowak remained unmoving, still focused on Nathan's body. Whisper scraped his throat and made another attempt at communicating. "We got hit... back at the lair... Knew our defenses." The frail man started coughing. "Must... must have been an inside job." Whisper managed after his fit. Parcivale laid the man down. "Gonna get you some water Ygor. And then we'll see to your wounds." Parcivale went back to the chamber and came back within a minute with a tin tankard which he filled with the water still raining down in the hallway. Next, he sat down and raised Whisper's head, putting the mug to his lips, allowing the man to drink with small swigs.

Parcivale had just put the tankard down and was considering how to move his fellow ganger without hurting him too much when Nowak's shadow fell on him. "So. We've been betrayed. By who?" Nowak's tone was businesslike and showed no compassion what so ever for the wounded. Whisper exchanged glances with Parcivale, but as soon as he did that, Nowak knelt down beside the man and laid his staff on Whisper's shoulder. It wasn't a threat... yet. Both Parcivale and Whisper realized that the boss wanted answers. Seeing the sorry state of the Jester, Parcivale tried to step in. "Boss. I'm sure Ygor will be able to..." Nowak interrupted him abruptly. "Hammer. If I want your opinion, I'll be sure to ask for it. Now, let me hear what Whisper has got to say." Parcivale looked back at Whisper, but the man blinked his eyes and met those of Nowak. "I...'m... not sure... boss..." For a moment Parcivale feared that Nowak would react badly, but Nowak seemed to control his choler, giving Whisper a small nod, encouraging him to express his suspicions. "There was no talk... of... ambition..." Whisper could use another sip of water, but Parcivale didn't want to interrupt him now. "My guess... would be... Sharenya." Parcivale exhaled, the sound clearly audible in the silence that followed Whisper's guess. Parcivale didn't think it possible that his former leader had conspired against Nowak. She had always been a staunch defender of the boss, ruling her ring accordingly. Dissent among the ranks wasn't allowed and if it reached her ears, the person who was responsible soon found himself knocked down against the floor. If it was your first time. The second time, you would also hit the floor... as a corpse. Parcivale looked at Nowak, who still stared intently at Whisper. "How sure are you, Ygor?" he asked, still sounding calm and businesslike. As Whisper gathered the energy to answer, Parcivale thought about the question himself.

If there was a betrayal, it would have had to come from a ring leader. It was pretty hard for the lower ranks to keep a secret. If they were sent on assignment, they were almost always send out in company. And if they weren't working, they would normally be found at the lair or one of the businesses the Jesters controlled, sharing their time with other gangers. They were a bit like a family in that way. Parcivale considered the ring leaders. Lödz seemed to be out to begin with. Or if he had conspired with Nathan's bunch, he sure had drawn the short stick. Parcivale also dismissed Elyna. She was loyal to a fault to Nowak. 'Although she has questioned Nowak's decisions lately.' Parcivale thought. But still he dismissed her. Her questions had come out of concern, not misplaced ambition. Which left Sharenya. Parcivale focused back on Nowak and Whisper. "She's been seen... in the undercity." Whisper managed in between coughing fits. The little man suddenly spat some blood and immediately Parcivale's concern grew. If the man was bleeding internally, he was a gonner. Nowak on the other hand, seemed relentless, staring in Whisper's blood shot eyes. "Go on." the boss grunted, his displeasure clearly resounding through his words. Whisper squirmed again, althought it wasn't clear whether it was to find a more comfortable position or to win some time to order his thoughts. It was clear though how Nowak took the pauze, his facial expression now matching his tone.

After a long pauze, Whisper spoke up again. "I... I'm just not sure, _szef_. And what... good... would it be to give you... false information." That at least made Nowak think twice, Parcivale noted, as the man rose again, taking the staff from Whisper's shoulder. As far as Parcivale could tell, he was considering this latest bit of information. "Was she at the lair when they hit?" Parcivale asked. Whisper slowly shook his head. Parcivale frowned, but didn't comment. This wasn't looking good for his former ringleader. Nowak turned back to Whisper. "Why were you bringing them here? They already hit this place." The bruised and blue face turned to Nowak again, probably with an expression of surprise on it, although one could hardly tell. "No... I led them here... Got... captured by them. Asked me for our... hideouts in this neighbourhood... Nathan... rejoined us at the south... side of the station... They threatened..." Parcivale picked up the tankard and offered it to Ygor. Both because he could use it, as to shut him up. The Nowak he had come to know over the last few hours, wouldn't take well to a Jester confessing to cooperating with the enemy and although Parcivale wasn't particularly close to Whisper, he hated to see him get killed without good reason. Luckily, the boss seemed more occupied with the realization that yet another party was going after them. If Nathan hadn't knocked over this safehouse, who had? And now that Parcivale came to think about it, it made sense. The MO was completely different from Nathan's other attempts. The blood smeared room at their back testified of a wild and vicious attack, most likely hand-to-hand, while the fights at both the chapel and the commercial street had basicaly been shoot-outs.

Parcivale exchanged looks with Nowak and could see that they both had come to the same conclusion. Nowak stroked his staff and Parcivale reloaded his autopistol. Parcivale couldn't process this new information. The lair was gone, the gang was in disarray, their safehouses were compromised and they had a traitor within their ranks. He didn't know where to begin. So, instead of making plans, he turned his attention to the here and now. Putting the tankard down, he put his hands under Whisper's shoulders. "This is gonna hurt Ygor." He pulled him up and laid Whisper's left arm over his shoulder so he could lean on him, sparing his left foot that wobbled dangerously at the end of his leg. Whisper whistled through his teeth the moment they entered the maintenance room. "Yeah. I know." Parcivale replied. "I think I would rather take my chances against Nathan's bunch." In between the groaning as Parcivale sat him down on the single chair that had survived the carnage, Ygor whispered. "They... they must have come... from the undercity." The man took a deep breath, biting through the pain. "And this looks like the attack on the Raptors." Parcivale shook his head, but Whisper raised his arm and got hold of his chin, steadying it and forcing Parcivale to look at him. "You... know. You know what this is, Hammer." Parcivale whiped Whisper's hand away. "I don't want to know." Now Whisper laughed, immediately clutching his belly in pain. "You can't un-know, Hammer. You're not... stupid like that. They are coming for it... Just like Janina tried to tell you." Parcivale wasn't surprised that the little man knew. There was little he didn't know when it came to the gang. Once more, Whisper reached out, grabbing Parcivale by the shoulder and softly pulling at him to make him lean in. "If we want to survive... the Jesters..." Whisper forced his voice, speaking with more conviction than ever, "He has to lose it... Has to." The man started coughing again, spewing out little flecks of spit and blood. He laid back in the ramshackle chair again, closing his eyes.

"We're gonna find you a _lekartz_." Parcivale said, but Whisper didn't react anymore. Parcivale could see his chest rising and falling, but the rythm was quite unsteady. 'Nothing you can do now though. He'll just have to pull through in the meanwhile.' he thought before leaving the room. The boss still seemed to be busy contemplating their options. When Parcivale stood next to him, he seemed to be making up his mind. "I'll be heading for the mills. If there's any place we can hold, it's there. You're going to check on the lair. See if there's anything we can salvage." Parcivale's first reaction was surprise. "You want us to split up? They are gunning for you, boss. Shouldn't I be at your side? Besides, I'm muscle. Not some scout." The expression on Nowak's face was clear though. Once more he wouldn't be persuaded or convinced. Although he didn't broke Parcivale off. "What you're saying is true, Hammer." For a moment Parcivale thought that he was going to explain himself, but then his stubborness resurfaced. "But you heard me. I want it done this way." Parcivale shut up and considered his position. Now that he thought about it, he wanted to get away from Nowak. Even though he seemed reasonable enough now, he had seen how he had treated Ygor. His first response had been instinctive. Not just because he was acting as bodyguard, but also because in a gang you stuck together when things got rough. But now that Nowak gave him a way out, he should just take it. "Ok." he said cautiously. He didn't want to sound too eager. He kept silent for a second. There wasn't much more to say. "You need anything before we split?" he asked after a few seconds. Nowak just shook his head. "I know my way around here. You just do what I asked of you." Nowak turned around and started walking, swinging his staff, carefree. As if he was king of the hive. Parcivale didn't even bother asking what he wanted to do with Whisper. Instead Parcivale broke into a jog and went his own way.


	11. Chapter 11: Home

_Chapter 3: Keita_

Parcivale was looking at the entrance of the lair: a double door, laying at the bottom of a small, rockcrete flight of stairs starting at the pavement before the grey bricked habblock. From the outside, you could easily be mistaken that everything was as it should be. But there were small signs that made it clear that something was amiss. The door, which should at all times be closed, stood ajar. The window across the street, where there would be a spotter with a hunting rifle, was empty. And finally, at this hour - the artificial night was almost coming to an end - the lumen strip next to the entrance should be lit. It was all in line with Whisper's message that it had been hit. Parcivale checked his chrono. He'd been laying there for an hour and during that time, nothing had moved. The neighbourhood was quiet, even too quiet as at this hour some of the local residents should be getting ready to go up hive. But if there had been a fight in the street, they would certainly think twice about leaving their houses, even if it meant an irritated Mechanicus overseer or Administratum clerk could sack them for showing up late. Parcivale didn't have the luxury to stay in though. Besides, it was his home he needed to go to. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that he had to taken up residence at the lair. The thought of leaving all the shit behind had crossed his mind numerous times. But without coin or equipment, he would soon be just another beggar. Or a new and expendable face in another gang. If he could even convince them that he would be loyal to them, which wouldn't be easy. Although he wasn't a ringleader, he had built a respectable reputation with the other gangs. If the Hammer fell, you needed to make yourself scarce. And the Hammer was only raised in the name of the Jesters. No. Parcivale needed the coin he had spared which he had stashed under a cracked piece of floorboard of his room.

Seeing no point in waiting any longer, Parcivale quickly crossed the street and dashed down the stairs, entering the basement and shutting the door behind him. He didn't have the key, but there also was a simple bolt which he softly slid across the door. He looked around and adjusted the settings of his photovisor. There was even less light here than on the dark streets. The apparatus increased the green brightness and suddenly Parcivale could lay eyes on the obvious signs of havoc and destruction. There were bulletholes everywhere and the ground was sticky. Whether it was because of spilled beer or blood, Parcivale didn't care to investigate, but the bodies on the ground gave him all the information he needed. Furniture had been thrown over and shot to pieces and the place stank even worse than normal. Parcivale tried not to focus too much on the casualties and instead went to his own room, one floor up. Right in the middle of the stairwell, lay the body of a woman. Even though her back was torn open, he could easily identify her as Elyna. He stepped over the body - there was nothing he could do - and cursed softly. She might have been able to talk some sense in Nowak. And who might have given the gang a bit of direction. He cursed again and made his way to his room.

The door had been kicked in and lay on the floor. Pulling it up and balancing it against the edge of his bed, Lars kneeled down on the floor and started prodding the cheap plywood floor. A moment later he found the tin can untouched, weighing about two and a half pounds, up to three quarters of it filled with silver thrones. All the coins depicted the Imperial Aquila on one side and the bearded face of the hive administrator of Kraskow on the other. He smiled. At least he could consider the possibility of leaving everything and everyone behind now. He stood back up and reached for a khaki backpack laying on the sole cabinet in his room. As he got hold of it, he also bumped against the door which, with a loud bang, fell back against the floor. Parcivale flinched and then did so again as he heard something breaking into a run.

Panicking, Parcivale stormed out of the room and started running away. He had thought the building deserted. And to be proven wrong at this point couldn't be good news. The noise behind him grew louder. It wasn't just someone running. Someone was effectively storming through the hallways, banging against the walls and... howling? Parcivale sprinted through the corridor to the stairwell, hoping that he would be able to shake his pursuer on the next level. All the doors he passed on this level were battered in. Only the last one on the left still hung in its hinges untouched, but Parcivale didn't try to hide behind it, instead taking the first three stairs with a single jump. Coming at the top of the stairs he slowed his pace, now favouring stealth over speed. It required all his self-control to pull it off - all his instincts were telling him to keep running - and it wasn't easy to control his ragged breathing. He could hear how someone - or was it something? - was sniffing the air below. 'What the frig is that?' Parcivale thought by himself as he gently moved towards the closest room, intently focused on the plywood floor, trying to avoid any loose bits that might squeek and give him away. The sniffing continued and a loud creak indicated that whatever it was, had taken a step on the stairs, although Parcivale couldn't tell whether the thing was descending or ascending. 'It'll be just my luck if it guesses right.' At that point he came at the first door. The greenish image of his photovisor flickered for a second as its machine spirit tried to adjust for the almost complete lack of light in the room. But then it showed the contents of the room. This door had been broken in half, the upper half still hanging crooked in the frame. Parcivale slowly crouched down and peered inside. He almost flinched. Although he had seen enough horror in the past - the scenes of carnage and mutation at the Widow's lair had scarred him forever - the scene before him was coming close. On the ground lay the leg of a woman, just the leg, but it had been gnawed on. The white skin was torn and large lumps of the muscle at the tigh were missing. Some of the bitemarks went so deep that the white of the bone was visible. Parcivale gagged, but another creak coming from his back, made him move forwards. He ducked under the incomplete door and hid in the shadows, drawing his pistol and covering the entrance of the room.

Outside, the sniffing continued and Parcivale could hear how his pursuer was coming closer, step by step. He reinforced the grip on his pistol and selected full auto fire, thanking himself for keeping his gun in prime condition so that the switch only made the tiniest of clicks as he flicked it. At least, he couldn't hear any changes in whatever stood outside the door. Still, it kept coming closer. Suddenly the feet of the thing came in view and Parcivale almost gasped for air. The thing - and it definitely was a thing - was barefooted, but thick redish fur covered his legs and part of its foot. It's toes ended in thick black nails that had grown into claws about an inch long. Parcivale held his breath. There was another sniff and then a soft grunt then silence. Parcivale now aimed at the suspected position of the things head, but the cold realization that his gun wouldn't be powerful enough to drop his enemy if it was one of the Widow's mutants, had already sunk in. His only hope was that the thing wouldn't find him.

His hope was shattered together with the silence as the mutant kicked at the upper half of the door. Parcivale leaned to the left, dodging the piece of flakboard, but it also made him lose his aim. The mutant was two steps in the room before he could bring the gun back in position. Desperate, he just started shooting, plugging the mutant with bullet after bullet. Any man being hit like that at such range would have been stopped in his tracks, even if the shots weren't especially well placed. The mutant cringed, but didn't miss a step and a moment later he slapped the pistol out of Parcivale's hands. Unarmed, Parcivale saw only one option. He jumped out of his crouched position and planted his shoulder in the beast's stomach. But the thing didn't budge. Instead Parcivale bounced of of it and fell back on the floor. The mutant raised his arm, ready to strike the now cowering man before it. Parcivale raised his arms to fend of the attack, but it was more an uncontrolled reflex than a real defensive stance. 'This is it.' he thought and just before the blow would come down, he thought of Ripper. How the ganger had died, spasming after being infected with the mutant's toxin. A terrible death. He just hoped the blow would kill him instantly. The beast grunted. Nothing happened.

Parcivale looked up and saw how the body of the mutant was falling to the floor, slowly, sliding of a blade, flickering bright white and hellish blue. He scrambled to his feet and then stood face to face with an armoured figure. He recognized her immediately and she confirmed his memory. "Interrogator Keita." she said with a smile. "Thanks for leading him here. This one was the last one here." Her expression changed. Despite the green and white picture of the photovisor, Parcivale could see that she got a look of grim determination on her face, although there was sorrow in her eyes. "Sorry, you won't be celebrating." She said, her voice reflecting her expression, as she stepped over the body and pointed her dagger at him. Parcivale's eyes grew big under his visor and he raised his hands. "What are you doing?" She took another step and got ready to stab him. "I'm afraid you've seen too much, citizen. I'm sorry." She now sounded compassionate, but from her tone it was clear that she was utterly convinced of what she needed to do. "No! No! I saved you! I saved you!" Parcivale cried out. The power dagger that had been ready to lash out, was drawn back, about an inch or two. A small wrinkle appeared on her forehead. "What do you mean?" Parcivale used the pauze to crawl backwards until his back hit the wall. "I was there when you fought the Widow. I shot it. Don't you remember?" Parcivale realized that he was sounding desperate and wasn't proud of it.

Helena Keita took another look at the pitiful ganger. Her eyes went over the scarred face with dark brown eyes and short black hair. He looked like any other ganger with his long flak coat and his, although well maintained, common autopistol. But when he stood up, letting the gun lay on the floor... his posture made her hesitate. "How many were there when we fought the Widow?" she asked. Parcivale answered immediately. "Four, and we lost one. Jay and I left you when that thing fell on you." Parcivale realized that this might not be the best thing to mention. With an apologetic shrug he tried to play that down. "We were just scared out of our minds... _kochanka_." Helena wasn't too impressed, but she did remember that this man had shot the daemon with one of the boltpistols loaded with sanctified shells, he had stolen from one of her men. Finally she conceded and slid the dagger back into a silver scabbard at her belt. "So, you're still alive." she noted, stating the rather obvious. Parcivale nodded, but didn't thank her for it. As far as he was concerned, they were now even. And maybe not even. It seemed like every time he ran into frigging mutants or the supernatural, the petite woman with the strange almond shaped, brown eyes turned up.

"So, why are there more of these mutants here? Weren't they all killed? And why are they after us?" Parcivale asked, eyeing his pistol laying on the floor. The woman chuckled a silver laugh before turning serious again. "Like you don't know." Parcivale wanted to play dumb, but couldn't keep his face in check. She nodded. "And it's not like they are the only ones trying to lay their hands on it. There has been quite a bit of traffic between the upper hive and this level. More specifically, between the spire palace of Baroness Agatka Porodsky and the Jester territory." It wasn't a stretch to identify Nathan as the leader of the Porodsky delegation. "And then of course," Helena continued, "there's me." She made a little curtsey to which Parcivale could only reply with a raised eyebrow. She bowed to pick up Parcivale's gun and handed it to him. "Still using this..." she hesitated and Parcivale could tell she didn't think much of his iron. "Piece?" she finished her sentence. Parcivale accepted the gun and checked it. "I thought about keeping that bolt pistol of yours, but it's hard finding ammo for such a thing around here." The interrogator gave him another smile, but Parcivale was already wondering where this was going to lead. Only a minute ago she wanted to kill him, even though she had thought him an ordinary citizen. He was amused by how she had adressed him, but not with her intention.

"So, what now?" he said, even as Keita had turned around and was moving out of the room. She didn't bother looking back. "Now, you're going to help me find what I'm looking for." Parcivale wanted to protest, but she cut right through that. "Or rather, get back what I already fought for." As they strolled through the deserted hallway, he wondered how things might have turned out if he had listened to Janina. If he hadn't brought the Widow's staff with him. If Lödz, Martin, Tanya, Ygor and all the other Jesters that had been killed today, would still be alive. How things would have turned out if Nowak wouldn't have laid his hands on the weapon. The interrogator was descending the stairs when she woke him out of his reveries. "Well? Where is your boss, ... Ehrm. What's your name?" "Hammer. And I'm not sure where he is." Helena Keita didn't skip a beat. "That ain't the answer I am looking for." And even though her tone was as pleasant and easygoing as before, Parcivale recognized the threat. "I know where he's going." he tried again. "Fine. Then that's where you'll take me." she said, leaving Parcivale wondering what he should do.

'What the frig are you gonna do?' the Jester thought. Parcivale couldn't imagine a way where things would end well for the gang. 'So, how loyal are you, Parcivale?' A week ago the question wouldn't go unanswered for even a second, but now, after having seen Nowak's behaviour in a crisis situation, his answer was no longer as straightforward as it used to be. There was also a difference between loyalty to Nowak personally and to the gang as a whole. Even though he wasn't personally close to anyone - he'd enjoyed the best relationship with Sharenya and even that one had been one between leader and subordinate, not to mention that Whisper thought she was responsible for part of this mess - the Jesters were the closest thing to family he had. And the only thing he really knew in this universe. Parcivale knew he had some skills that could give him a fresh start elsewhere, and with the cash he now had on him, that had become a real possibility, but still the thought of abandoning the Jesters stung.

As they came to the first floor, Parcivale's eye fell on the door that the raiders had left untouched. Helena was already descending to the ground floor, so he called out to her. He wasn't sure that he wanted to help her, but he sure didn't want to get shot in the back by her because she mistook his actions for an attempt to flee. "Gotta check this out. Might help with tracking the boss." The interrogator eyed him from between the lattice, not really suspicious, but rather giving him a hard look that she wouldn't stand for any trickery. Parcivale shrugged, posing that he didn't care, even though he had felt a shiver going past his spine. He resolved that he wouldn't try to cheat this petite women if it weren't absolutely necessary. Coming at the door, he tried the knob. It was locked. He put his shoulder against it, twice, before it surrendered and swung inside, leaving Parcivale stumbling in.

The room was untouched by violence, tidy even, which was in stark contrast with the rest of the lair. It was just as small as Parcivale's own room, but instead of smelling like sweat and dirty clothes, this one smelled of incense. There were ink stains on the small desk pressed between the bed and the wall and Parcivale realized he was standing in Njed's room. He opened the cupboards against the ceiling. They were empty. Apart from the pillow and blanket on the bed, everything had been cleared out. Parcivale shook his head in disbelief. 'That little snake. Selling us out to some frigging noble.' he thought. When they had discussed the possible betrayal of one of the ringleaders, both Whisper and he hadn't thought about the bookkeeper. But he knew just as much as any of the ringleaders. Perhaps more as he received info of every ring within the Jesters. "Throne." Parcivale cursed softly. 'And you suspected Sharenya.' The thought made him pauze. It wasn't just him that suspected the ringleader of the muscle. Nowak had the same idea. "Frig!" he cursed again, louder this time and without wasting another second, he ran after Keita.

"Glad I didn't need to come find you." she said, rather coldly. Parcivale ignored her and ran past her. "I'm taking you to the boss. Move it." The interrogator didn't question him, but silently started running as well. "You got a car parked outside?" She snickered. "You think I want to stand out in this neighbourhood?" Parcivale cursed again. No quick ride then. "Guess we'll have to keep running." he growled back, blaming the interrogator for the delay. Helena Keita didn't react. She wasn't sure what the ganger was thinking, but he seemed to be doing what she had asked of him. A bit too enthusiastically even and she wondered for a second if Hammer realized what her plans were. He had been reluctant at first to help her and she had attributed that to the fact that he knew that she was gonna kill his boss, but now he seemed to have forgotten what she was after to begin with. Whatever it was, it suited her needs, so instead of questioning the man any longer, she just ran after him in silence.


	12. Chapter 12: The mills

The industrial mills had been abandoned about a decade ago. Before they had only worked from time to time, the Mechanicus no longer that interested in keeping it operational as a primary production site, having found alternatives that required less time and resources to keep running. After its official decommission, a group of workers had tried to keep it in business themselves, but the gangs had identified it as an asset soon enough and had taken over control a couple of weeks later. Gangers aren't the best of managers though and the workers weren't very motivated to slave away if all the fruit of their labour was siphoned away to some local ganglord. So, a few months later the wheels and gears had stopped spinning and it had become yet another abandoned manufactorum of Kraskow's underhive. It had been Nowak who had seen another use for it. With a bit of work it was an excellent defensive position and a perfect backup for their main base of operations. The mills consisted of a dozen buildings, but the Jesters had chosen the main silo to build their base. From the top - about 200 metres above ground level - you had a good overview of the mills and the underhive districts surrounding it. The walls were solid, ten foot thick rockcrete and at different heights there were small service platforms that had been transformed to sturdy pillboxes and that overlooked the stairwells on the inside. The silo stood a bit isolated from the rest of the building and in between the support pillars of the butressed base, the Jesters could easily install a few heavy stubbers, creating the perfect field of fire. The Jesters didn't keep the defenses primed and ready around the clock - that would ask for too much manpower and too much resources - but Nowak had stacked it with ammo and the necessary gear if they would ever come under an organized attack. All in all, Parcivale had thought the position very secure and considered it one of the reasons why Nowak had deserved to be the Jesters' leader.

The scene before him was challenging him to reconsider that. Keita and he had moved into the mills and were now hiding in one of the former Mechanicus barracks, peering out of one of the dirty windows overlooking the square at the base of the silo. The rockcrete deck, here and there overgrown with yellowish patches of hard-leaved grass, was littered with bodies. They didn't need magnoculars to identify the bodies as mutants that were brought down by the heavy stubbers positioned both at the base and the top of the silo. Parcivale counted six corpses. Closer to the base a lot more were laying around, although it was difficult to estimate the true number seeing as bodyparts had been strewn over the defensive position like a cook would season a dish. What was clear though was that the the stubber nests were taken out. From their current position, they could see one nest where the barrel was snapped in two and another one where the entire gun was demolished, laying in pieces around the sandbag cover. The main doors to the silo were forced open and Parcivale could only imagine what carnage lay beyond. Keita sighed. "Looks like we might be too late." Parcivale looked aside. She sounded disappointed. "Meaning I'll have to continue looking after that staff." She slid down with her back against the wall. "Throne!" she cursed. It was the first time Parcivale saw her commitment simmering through her casual facade. The ganger remained silent, not really sure where the interrogator was going with this. Helena Keita sat still for a second, perhaps resigned, before she sprung back into action. "Let's go. Won't hurt to go take a look."

Parcivale stood up and followed her, before wondering why he was actually following her. He had brought her to where he thought Nowak would be. He had no interest in her business. And it didn't look like there was anyone left to save. Still, he followed her out of the barracks, running after Helena. She took a knee beside one of the mutant corpses. It was utterly destroyed. "Looks like the sheer volume of slugs has finished this one off." Parcivale looked away. You could only vaguely recognize the bloody ravage as a mutant body. Its torso was reduced to a bloody pulp. He was just about to ask her if she wanted to take some picts when a long burst of auto fire came from the silo. Keita reacted immediately, sprinting towards the base of the silo, leaving Parcivale behind as the ganger was still processing the information. "They're still fighting, moron!" she yelled at him over her shoulder. "Get over here!" Parcivale followed the interrogator's example and ran full speed at the sandbags where she was heading. He slid behind them, even as she was taking a careful look over the sandbags at the interior of the silo. "You see anything?" he asked. The sound of the stubber now got the company of other bangs, which Parcivale could identify as autoguns and stub revolvers. Keita slid back down behind the sandbags and unhooked a little apparatus from her belt. He heard her chant something which sounded like a prayer, although it wasn't directed at the Emperor and suddenly a little green screen lit up. A dozen or so white blips appeared on the screen as she scanned the silo from the bottom up. The interrogator cursed. "There's still a lot of them, and this little fellow hasn't got the strength to punch through that rockcrete further up." Shaking her head, she stowed the compact auspex and took another look at the entrance. "We're not going to be able to pass them like that. If there would be less of them, I might try it, but they have the higher ground. And we risk getting caught in the crossfire of your people.

Parcivale was surprised by the woman's capacity of reading the tactical situation on such short notice. He was also curious about the little contraption she was carrying. "Is that a weapon?" he asked, pointing at the auspex. Keita smiled and shook her head. "Neither is this." She let her small backpack slide from her back and rummaged through it, revealing something which looked like a pistol. "It's not?" Parcivale asked, one eyebrow raised. Her hand went back in her pack and now came out with a coil, a long silver line tightly spun around it. "You're lucky I'm carrying two of these babies." Parcivale was pretty sure he wasn't lucky at all. "These are grapnel pistols. We fire the grapnels to the top of the silo and we climb it from the outside. Relax. There's a built-in winch, so you don't even need to do the hard work." She clipped one end of the wire to a little harpoon sticking out of the barrel of the gun, while the other end went to her belt. "Shame you don't have a climbing belt, but that'll work." she said, pointing at Parcivale's worn leather belt. Parcivale shook his head. "You think I'm gonna go up there with that?" he said, indicating the grapnel with a small nod. "Think again, _wany_."

One look on Helena Keita was enough for Parcivale to realize that he had overstepped his authority. The cheery, easy going attitude got replaced with cold conviction. "We made a deal. I ain't seeing your boss here. So you're staying with me until you've delivered. A man like you should understand that there's no backing out of such things." She didn't even have to reach for the boltpistol at her belt to press her point. Parcivale just grabbed the second spool and clicked the fine silver hook on his belt. He tugged at it, checking whether it would hold. The leather creaked a bit, but seemed to hold together. Meanwhile, Keita had undone her holster with the bolt pistol. "Your pea shooter won't put a dent in those mutants. Take this," she said, handing him both the holster as the bolt pistol. "Unless you prefer to get all close and personal." But one look on the power dagger was enough for Parcivale to stick with the pistol. He wasn't completely unfamiliar with knives and the like, but he felt far more comfortable fighting his enemies from a distance. Especially mutants that could poison you with a single scratch.

"Alright. Follow my lead." The interrogator said as she took a few steps backwards, before raising the grapnel pistol, aiming at the roof of the silo. She pulled the trigger, a metallic click followed by a short hiss, and the grapnel flew up, the line on the spool unwinding at high velocity. Seconds later, the winch pulled the cable taut and Keita started running towards the wall of the silo. Against his better judgement, Parcivale followed her example, not trying to think about how sturdy his belt was, nor about the strength of the silo's roof or whatever it was the grapnel had got a hold on. Half a minute later they were both hanging from their lines, hopping from one leg on the other as the winches pulled them up metre by metre. Parcivale held the cable with both hands, didn't look down and tried to ignore the sound his belt made every time he pushed off. The tension was clearly visible on his face, quite the opposite of Keita who not only gracefully mounted the silo, but also kept looking around, checking their surroundings. The dull, booming noises grew louder and louder as they ascended until Parcivale could swear someone was firing a stubber right at the other side of the wall. One look at the top of the building told him that they were over three quarters of the way, so the Jesters were probably down to their last defensive position before the enemy would reach the old and derelict control station at the top, the last strongpoint. They mounted even further until they finally arrived at the top of the silo. The circular metal plated roof was deserted, leaving three stubber nests unmanned. Parcivale could only guess that once the enemy had breached the defences at the gates, the gangers here had rejoined their comrades on the inside. The service hatch that led to the control station stood wide open - nobody expected someone infiltrating from the top - and as soon as Keita had deconnected herself from the grapnel, she ran towards it.

"Wait!" Parcivale yelled. "Let me go first." But the words had only just left his mouth, when the crack of a loud explosion came from the room below. Parcivale fumbled with his line and could see how Keita jumped dauntlessly into the room. "Frig." he cursed and started running too, still pulling at the paddle leach attached to his belt. Coming at the hole in the floor, he took cover behind the thick steel hatch and instead of picking away at the leach, just unclasped his belt. Right after he had pulled the bolt pistol from its holster. He pointed it down and looked for targets, but he only had a limited view on the circular room below. From his position he could only see a quarter at best, and it wasn't even the part with the door to the internal stairwell. The lights in the room, industrial lumenstrips, were on, but visibility was poor as a lot of smoke hung in the room, probably from the explosion. He heard some erractic gunfire and actually saw a ganger carrying a pump-action shotgun shooting at some unseen enemy below. Although he wondered how Helena had managed the jump - the floor was ten foot below the hole - he decided he needed to displace. But contrary to the interrogator he didn't feel comfortable jumping down. Instead he took to the thin service ladder, franticly hoping that he wouldn't get shot as he slid down. The thing just hung in mid air of the room leaving him awfully exposed. His landing was rather unsteady and immediately he crawled to the nearest piece of cover. He put his back against an overturned plasteel desk and held the bolt pistol two-handedly in front of him. His eyes darted across the room, trying to make sense of the tactical situation. There was sporadic gunfire around him, but nothing that indicated a full-on assault of the control room. He looked for Keita, but couldn't find her. He spotted a fellow Jester that was crawling towards the entrance of the room, a combat blade in his hand, but before he could make contact, the man disappeared behind a derelict cogitator station. Finally, his eyes fell on another figure across the room. The girl had taken a position as far from the stairwell as possible and held a simple stub automatic, but she clearly was ill at ease with the weapon. Parcivale could tell from the way she held it. He also knew why. Janina never had been good with guns and had always preferred close combat weaponry.

He stared at her for a second and felt surprise when she looked up and their eyes crossed. He could see how her expression of nervousness changed to something which resembled confidence and the next moment she was crawling towards him, flat on her belly, pulling herself forward on her elbows. He didn't even bother trying to stop her. And, if anything, she would be another target to distract the enemy. As she was on her way, Parcivale risked a quick look in the direction of the door. The smoke was thicker there and one could only barely discern the strip lights of the stairwell beyond. The mutants could be seconds away, but nothing seemed to happen. The gunfire withered away as nobody stormed the room. Parcivale looked back at Janina. "What happened? Where's Nowak?" Janina looked around. "He's somewhere in here." But she didn't seem to know his exact position either. "Frig." Parcivale cursed softly between his clenched teeth. He had to worry about too many things. First of all, he really didn't want to get close to any of the mutants that were about to attack the control room. Second, he had an interrogator on the loose who was about to execute the boss. As a bonus, he still hadn't figured out if that really was a bad thing. Thirdly, he still worried about the interrogator's intentions for himself. She had wanted to execute him before and although she had finally decided against it, he wasn't entirely convinced that she would leave him be after this whole mess. And of course, there was still a little voice at the back of his head that reminded him of Whisper's current predicament. Although that situation was clearly the least important.

Parcivale was just about to displace to start looking for Nowak or Keita when a ripple went through the smoke. Then suddenly people around him started screaming. Including Janina. The lithe woman put her hands against her ears and with her eyes bulging out of her sockets, her pupils dilated to the fullest. She shrieked at the top of her lungs. Parcivale didn't understand what was going on and didn't get the chance to investigate. Over the screaming, someone yelled "Incoming!" and Parcivale looked over the edge of the overturned desk he was hiding behind. Sure enough a humanoid form had appeared in the door opening. Parcivale pulled the trigger of his bolt pistol. He completely misjudged the kickback and nearly got the gun against his head. His shot missed the form he had aimed for, but with a stroke of the Emperor's luck the shell hit the next mutant that had come up the stairs. Parcivale couldn't even see whether it was effective as he was suddenly distracted by gunfire right next to him. He ducked and looked beside him. Janina still had her hand on her left ear, but with her right hand she had picked up the stub automatic and fired it wildly. Right in a metal cabin full of dusty datalooms a few steps away. "Jay!" he yelled. But the girl started waving the gun around, now shooting at the ceiling. "They are coming out of the walls! They are coming out of the walls!" Parcivale didn't have to check to know that nothing was coming out of the walls, but from the gunfire breaking out from all across the room and the screams of anguish ringing against the walls, it seemed that Janina wasn't the only one who was tripping. Suddenly Janina aimed the gun straight at him. In a reflex, Parcivale fell backwards, the bullet she fired at him a second later whizzing over him. He kicked at her gun, scoring a hit on her wrist. The girl cried out in surprise and fired another two shots, when finally she had exhausted her clip. As Parcivale sat up again, Janina threw the gun with a defiant cry. "You'll never get me, _skurswyn_! Never!" She reached for her switchblade when Parcivale decided he had had enough. With a stunning slap, he hit her on the head with the butt of his pistol. At this point he didn't really care whether it would crack her skull or not. The situation was dire. He heard screams of gangers getting wounded and he guessed that it weren't even the mutants that were causing it. Janina didn't see the blow coming and was knocked out cold instantly.

But before he could actually get his bearings something smashed into the plasteel desk at his back. Looking up, he saw the furry back of another mutant. Immediately he fired two shots in the thing's twisted back, the bolt shells burrying themselves in its flesh and blowing away large chunks of meat as they detonated. "Base of fire on the door Hammer!" Keita cried, who had connected the sound of the bolt pistol with the survival of Parcivale. 'Base of fire, with a friggin pistol.' Parcivale thought, but nevertheless he looked over the desk and aimed for the door. Immediately he realized the interrogator hadn't been wrong. Half a dozen mutants were squeezing through the door, apparently all convinced that they should be the first to bring the carnage to the remaining Jesters. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. His first shot exploded the head of the first mutant. His second shot blew away the arm of the next. As a bonus the crude black axe it held, landed in its right foot, making the thing crash to the ground. The third mutant stumbled over his falling comrade, making Parcivale miss his third shot, but immediately the ganger corrected his aim and got the mutant in the chest. He fired another bolt shell at the thing for good measure seeing as it stumbled on. The last shell of the clip was now in the chamber and he took a short moment to make it count. The remaining mutants seemed to have lost their appetite to storm in and were taking cover behind the door jambs, so he looked for another target. His eyes passed over Keita who kneeled beside a mutant's body, her power dagger still lodged in its throat. He saw another mutant charging through the control room, but before he could bring it in his crosshairs the thing had body checked a fellow Jester and Parcivale didn't dare shoot in the wild melee. There were enough enemies anyway; whatever they had done to the defenders' minds had been enough of a distraction to penetrate the last line of defense. With a sense of desperation Parcivale looked for a new target.


	13. Chapter 13: Boss fight

The situation in the control room was chaotic at best though. Without another easy target, Parcivale displaced, crawling on hands and knees towards a solid looking cogitator station as fast as he could. When he arrived, he heard Keita cursing. "Dammit Hammer. Doesn't your frakking gang brain understand the meaning of a base of fire?!" Parcivale whistled through his teeth. 'If she still has time to dis you like that, she isn't in real trouble.' he thought, but when he peeked from behind the gunshot riddled cogitator, he could see how the mutants from the door were flanking her. The battleaxes they carried in their long, apelike arms, easily outreached the petite woman with her dagger. But before he could help the interrogator out, another figure stormed through the open door. Although he shared the hunched posture and patches of dirty fur with the mutants, Parcivale realized that it was another breed. A purple light shone from its eyes and where the other mutants wore ruined flak coats or other pieces of rag tag armour on their body, this one was completely naked. An ugly symbol was carved in its chest which Parcivale recognized from the Widow's lair. Without thinking he fired his last bolt shell at the beast. The shell exploded, but when Parcivale blinked to rid himself of the flash, he realized that somehow the thing was unscathed. "Kill it Hammer! Kill that Shaman!" Keita yelled, even as she had to duck under a swing from an axe that would have cut her in half. But as a trained shooter, Parcivale knew his clip was empty. He ducked behind the thick, dusty metal plates of the cogitator and reloaded, hoping that Keita would be able to survive for a few moments longer. A cry of surprise from the interrogator made him fear that he'd be disappointed, but when he looked back at the fight from behind his cover, he could see that she was still fighting, apparently having downed one of the three mutants that were hacking away at her mercilessly.

But Parcivale immediately understood why she was surprised. In melee with the Shaman was another Jester, swinging a staff at incredible speed, both tips glowing green, driving the beast backwards: Nowak. With his boss in the line of fire, he didn't dare shoot the shaman. Moreover, he was no longer convinced that the bolt pistol could actually harm the creature. Instead he took aim on one of the two mutants still engaged with Keita. They both took turns in assaulting her, apparently having enough fighting instinct not to get in each other's way. But when one took a step back to swing his axe backwards for an overhead attack, Parcivale fired a semi-auto burst in the thing's chest. The two rounds pulverized the flak vest it wore. Still, it remained standing, although it had to take a step backwards, which Keita used to her advantage. A quick slit of the power dagger over the thing's throat, and without as much as a cry, the mutant keeled over backwards. The other mutant tried to compensate for the sudden loss, but he had counted on his comrade's attack to be able to withdraw. Keita jumped after him, within the mutant's guard and sliced open the beast from throat to belly. Parcivale looked around for other targets. There were more mutants on the loose. Left and right he heard Jester warcries, but Parcivale wasn't under the illusion that his fellow gangers would be able to kill many of them with their handaxes or autoguns. He left Keita and Nowak to it and started on an flanking manoeuvre, picking off targets of opportunity. Before long he had to switch his magazine again, but he could also add three mutants to his kill count. Still, the mutants were cutting through the Jesters as a squad of Astartes through a horde of cultists. He saw gangers being brutally cut to pieces by the crude axes as well as a few who had found their end like Ripper: spasming and with foam on their mouth. Others had been shot by their comrades in the confusion the shaman had caused before they could recover from the madness.

Parcivale was just aiming for a mutant's black horned head when he was knocked to the ground by a shock wave. Purple and black flames washed over him and burned his right side. He cried out and rolled himself up in a small ball, trying to conceal the better part of his chest and face. Luckily the flames disappeared as fast as they had come and Parcivale looked up to see what was going on. Keita and Nowak were still engaged with the mutant, Nowak apparently unscathed although once more a faint green light shone from his eyes. Keita on the other hand, had been hit, her left arm and leg were smoking. There was no more time to waste as a movement from the edges of his eyes caught his attention. His target had used the opportunity to sneak closer and was now only a few metres away from the Jester. Parcivale took a step backwards and brought up the bolt pistol. He pulled the trigger multiple times, but although the shots hit the thing in its hip and stomach, it kept coming at him and Parcivale was reminded at just how sturdy these enemies were. Before he could aim for the head - unless you hit them on their horns, you could be reasonably sure to finish them if you hit them there - he stumbled over a body laying on the ground and fell flat on his back. He heard the beast roaring and tried to bring his gun to bare, but he knew that this time, he wouldn't be fast enough. 'Stupid frig. You should have known better than to come here.' he thought as the beast smashed his axe with the flat against his wrist, slamming his pistol out of his hand and nearly breaking his fingers. Immediately it raised its axe for an overhead swing, while Parcivale fumbled with his off hand at the useless autopistol in its holster. "Emperor!" he cried out, when suddenly the beast's movement was arrested. The person he had fallen over, had plunged a mono edged sword from her lying position in the beasts already wounded groin. A stream of blood, excrements and gore flushed over her. Parcivale managed to recover and first went for the pistol laying a bit further. Then he moved back to the woman who'd saved him, sitting beside her on his knees. She was coughing and spitting away the mess that had drenched her face, but when Parcivale wiped her face clean, she still coughed up clear red blood, obviously her own instead of the mutant's. He then recognized the person laying at his knees: Sharenya.

She recognized him too even with her right eye hammered shut. "Hammer... Nowak's mad. Thought I... betrayed him... He's..." She had another fit and Parcivale tried to pull her upright so she could swallow away the blood. But after her body rocked a final time, her left eye rolled up and Parcivale held the corpse of his former ringleader. He cursed and wanted to get up when another gulf of purple flames washed over the desks and cogitator stations of the control room. This time, Parcivale was lucky enough to be close to the ground, so the fire passed over him. Enraged by his losses, he jumped up and cocked the bolt pistol again, aiming in the direction where he expected the Shaman, Nowak and Keita. When he looked up, he saw how Keita now really was on fire. Her left arm was ablaze, but still, she wouldn't give up, instead using it as another weapon while she continued to stab at the Shaman with her power dagger. Nowak was again unharmed, but the tips of this staff glowed brighter than ever. And then, benefiting from a flurry of blows from Keita that distracted it, Nowak scored a hit on the mutant, planting the tip of his staff in the center of its thorax. A bright green flash blinded Parcivale, and probably everyone in the room. When his vision was partly restored - his eyes were all teary and bright spots were still dancing on his retina - he saw that Nowak was the only one left standing. Parcivale stood up, looking at the absolute carnage in the room. The bodies of mutants and gangers lay about mutilated, the latter far worse as the vicious axes of their counterparts were a far more gruesome weapon than the Jesters' stub revolvers, autopistols and knives. At the back of the room, one of the mutants got up and made a break for the door. Parcivale caught the beast in the back and jammed all his remaining bolts in its red furry back, making it crash to the floor and down the steps as it reached the door of the control room.

Then a strange silence fell over the room, only disturbed by the soft moaning and sobbing of the wounded. Parcivale felt how Nowak was staring at him. The ganger had no idea how to respond to his boss. Nowak was victorious, his enemies dead at his feet, but the cost... Parcivale looked at the staff. The glow at the tips had faded completely and it had returned from an arcane weapon to a, although exquisite, normal weapon. Parcivale couldn't read the expression on the boss' face. He broke eye contact and looked down, right in the face of Sharenya. Which made him think of Helena Keita. Avoiding Nowak's look, he stepped over upturned tables and corpses towards the place where the melee with the Shaman had raged and where he would probably find the interrogator. He found her body easily enough. The armour of her left arm was still smouldering. Her other arm lay in a unnatural hook, white bone protruding at her elbow, her power dagger still in her right hand although her fingers lay around the grip forcelessly. He also saw the beginning of a bruise forming on her neck, the cause quite obvious.

Parcivale felt Nowak's eyes burning in his back. He knew he couldn't avoid a confrontation. Different emotions came to the surface, each accompanied by its own thoughts: anger, for killing Sharenya without good cause; loathing, for leaving Whisper to die when he'd served Nowak until the end; envy, for taking the Widow's staff away from him. Finally, he turned around. Nowak still looked at him, his expression no longer unreadable. Instead Parcivale saw a glimpse of anger flickering in his blue eyes. "Who's that?" Nowak asked calmly, pointing at Helena's body. Parcivale didn't got blindsided by the man's tone. In his mind, the question was a clear accusation. He considered lying, which made him pauze, giving Nowak all the more reason to be suspicious. "She's an interrogator. Inquisition." he finally said, deciding that it was too late to lie now. "Really?" Nowak said with one eyebrow raised. "Inquisition? Here in our little patch of Kraskow's underhive? How... curious." From the challenging tone, Parcivale immediately realized that Nowak already believed him to be lying. Parcivale could no longer care about that. He shrugged. "You've seen her equipment? This is hers by the way." he raised the bolt pistol. "If you don't want to believe me. Fine." Nowak tutted. "Who said I don't believe you... She came here with you." he continued. "Why is she here?" Parcivale pointed at the staff. "What do you think? That's no ordinary staff boss. I'm sure you have felt it." A sleek smile played around Nowak's lips. "Good thing I knocked that _suka_ out then." He stepped closer to the knocked out interrogator. "So, you wouldn't mind if I killed her?" the bald man asked testingly. He changed the grip on his staff, ready to deliver a finishing blow to the woman. Parcivale didn't answer, making Nowak stop and look at him questioningly. "You do mind?" Parcivale was gathering his thoughts. He hadn't a lot of sympathy for the woman. She had saved his life, but that only had made her even with him. And she hadn't had any qualms to finish him off. On the other hand, the whole situation wasn't her fault. And it was pretty clear that the staff was dangerous, which made him think that her mission was righteous. "Well?" Nowak asked. 'Time to chose.' Parcivale thought.


	14. Chapter 14: Keita

Parcivale knew he should back down. The code of Kraskow's gangs was clear enough. He still owed Nowak. More importantly, he was well aware that he stood before a man that had stood his ground time and again, even when his opponent was a psyker mutant or an Inquisition operative. But the challenging look, the unspoken threat, the utter lack of commitment to his fellow Jesters... Parcivale had had enough. "I do." Nowak casually took a more offensive stance. "You do." he echoed. "And why is that?" Parcivale took a step aside, putting himself between Nowak and Keita. "Because she's right. That staff shouldn't..." Before he could even end his sentence, Nowak lashed out with the pole weapon. Nowak didn't even curse him. Although Parcivale hadn't expected Nowak to attack him straight away, he'd been wary to say the least. He easily managed to dodge the blow and took a step backwards, staying out of Nowak's reach. He still didn't raise his own weapon, against his better judgement hoping Nowak would contain his ire. 'And your mag is empty anyway, _idiota_' he thought. "Boss. Stop! Calm the frig down!" Nowak hesitated for a second, perhaps considering Parcivale's request, but then he took another step in Parcivale's direction. "If you're not with me, you're against me Hammer. You know the code."

Parcivale took another step backwards and bumped into a desk. Immediately he rolled backwards over the tabletop and kicked it over. For a second he wanted to engage Nowak on the code. There were tons of reproaches he wanted to make, but it no longer mattered. With a cry of rage, Nowak stormed his position, jumping over the makeshift barricade. Parcivale retreated again and now aimed his empty bolt pistol at the man. Nowak anticipated a shot and changed direction, still managing to swing the staff dangerously close to Parcivale's face. The ganger dived past the rash attack and threw the bolt pistol at Nowak, a move completely unexpected by the bald man. The solid steel piece hit Nowak against the left ear, and he yelled out, probably more from the surprise of being hit, than actual pain. Parcivale used the moment to get some more distance between them and pulled his own Pugnatis-pattern autopistol from behind his pants' waistband. A fraction of a second later, the safety was off and the automatic fire selection was on. A first volley of six bullets went wide and Nowak charged him headless of the aimed gun.

Parcivale tried to step back as he fired another burst, but Nowak was too quick. One of the bullets nicked Nowak's shoulder, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Suddenly he was in melee and busy dodging attack after attack. Parcivale had the presence of mind to switch back to a single shot firing rate, not risking the last six bullets in the magazine in one go. Nowak weaved an intricate pattern, mostly aiming for Parcivale's gun. Parcivale was left dodging and retreating. In the next moments he managed to fire off two bullets, but to no avail. His sense of desperation must have shown. A mean smile crept on Nowak's face and the man doubled his efforts to connect the staff with Parcivale's body. Once more, the faint, green light shone from his eyes. This time Parcivale stood closer than ever and he could see how it actually came straight out of his pupils. The blue lines of the man's irises were filled up with a sickly green. From there the veins in the white of his eyes got afflicted too, until after a few seconds his entire eye had changed. But this time, it didn't stop there and the veins around his eyes also started to darken. Parcivale felt how the fear inside him was taking ahold. He had to fight both Nowak and the panic rising within him. He wanted to switch back to full auto fire and spray Nowak with the last of his bullets. His adrenaline levels rose and he started moving more quickly, sharply reacting to Nowak's attacks. Neither of the men taunted the other, instead focusing all their attention on killing their opponent. Parcivale cracked off another shot, but it went wide again, now leaving him with three bullets. In return he got hit on his wrist, a fiery pain flaring through his arm, something very different and far worse than the expected ordinary bludgeoning blow from a pole weapon. 'You're not gonna make it, Hammer.' Parcivale thought, but surrendering was no longer an option.

So, with nothing left to lose, Parcivale took another three quick steps backwards, trying to create the necessary room between him and Nowak to fire off a last volley. Or so he feigned. In truth he lured Nowak into a charge. Parcivale dropped his gun and changed direction drastically. Instead of moving away, he moved in closer. He managed to surprise Nowak who completely miscalculated his attack. In a split second, Parcivale grabbed the staff with both hands. It felt hot. Immediately his hands began to tingle, but he held on to the weapon with all his might. Recovering from his surprise, Nowak pulled forcefully at the staff. Instead of letting go or trying to withstand his boss' manoeuvre, Parcivale went with it and scored a solid head butt on his opponent. Instinctively Nowak grabbed his, now bloodied, face with one hand, but as he wiped the blood clean from his eyes, Parcivale twisted the staff around. Nowak held on, but had to expose his right side to Parcivale, an opportunity Parcivale made well use of. He rammed his knee in the man's lower back, at the height of his kidneys. Still, it wasn't enough for Nowak to let go of his weapon. Parcivale saw how the bloody right hand got ahold of the staff again. In response, he fell backwards, rolling on his back, using his legs to push Nowak from the ground. With his momentum and the extra kick, he managed to send him in a circle around the staff, making him fall on his back, knocking the wind out of him. The Jester's boss grunted. Parcivale tugged at the staff, finally pulling it free from the man's grasp. He scrambled up, changing his grip so he had both his hands on the end of the staff. With a final effort he swung it around and hit Nowak on the head. And that was the end of it. The skull cracked and the green light was doused. Silence fell over the control room. All that could be heard was the soft moaning of a few wounded and Parcivale's heavy breathing.

Parcivale raised the staff again. He remembered all too well how the Widow had come alive again. But Nowak's corpse remained still, a pool of blood forming around its head where Parcivale had struck him. The ganger fell back on the floor, panting, trying to catch his breath. He held the staff across his body. The tingling sensation was gone. It now felt like a sturdy, well balanced metal rod. Somehow the blood had run right off. The same went for Nowak's brain matter at the tip of the weapon. Somehow the entire thing was clean. Parcivale looked at it more closely. There were little symbols and characters etched within the staff. Although he wasn't much of a reader, Parcivale's eyes wandered over them, picking out characters he understood. Suddenly the staff was kicked out of his hands. The weapon flew through the air and with a metallic clamour the rod fell on the floor amidst the corpses of gangers and mutants alike. Parcivale looked up, utterly surprised. 'Who the frig?' His question immediately got answered and immediately he wondered how she had managed to sneak up on him. "Leave it, Hammer! You were already so far gone, you didn't notice me, did you?" Janina's voice sounded raw and shrill. Parcivale could still see fear in her eyes. The sleeve of her right arm was smeared with blood, but it was unclear whether it was hers. The reddish bruise on her head though, Parcivale could identify as the result of his actions. She stared at him, angrily, obviously expecting some sort of response. Parcivale shrugged. "Fine. I'll leave it be. What the frig was up with you?" The angry expression made place for shame. "I... I don't know." she said, her voice trembling as she seemed to relive the moment. "I only remember that something was coming through the walls and ceilings. Something... dark." She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it." she said angrily. "We're talking about you, _skurswyn_." Parcivale reached out with his arm. Janina took it and pulled him up. At that point, someone started coughing violently. Parcivale looked around and saw how interrogator Keita was coming to her senses.

Immediately he realized that Janina wasn't safe just yet. He remembered all too well how the Inquisition agent hadn't been planning on keeping him around. Hastily, Parcivale let his backpack slip from his shoulders. He felt the weight of the tin can with the silver thrones in them: his life savings. He retrieved the can from the pack. "Take this." he whispered. "Go to our hideout at the lightning car station. Whisper's there. Bring a _lekartz_. He'll need him if he's still alive. Wait for me there." The tinkle of the coin inside the container was enough for Janina to understand what she was given. She looked at him questioningly, clearly not realizing the danger she was still in. "You need to go." Parcivale whispered urgently. "That woman is going to kill you if she gets the chance." Parcivale turned Janina round and started pushing her towards the door. "What?" she asked incredulous, looking over shoulder. Keita moaned and tried to sit up. Hurriedly, Parcivale pushed Janina again, before heading for the interrogator. "Trust me on this Jay." he whispered. With a last frown, Janina ducked and sneaked out of the room, on her way to leave the Mills behind.

Parcivale kneeled beside the interrogator. She was still struggling to get up. She couldn't put any force on her broken arm and Parcivale could see how her other arm was burned quite badly. Although she wore a carapace chestplate, her arms had only been covered with a reinforced bodyglove. The tissue had melted at some places and had fused with her flesh. Still, it was the arm she was using to get herself up. "Stop that." Parcivale grunted. He laid his hands under he shoulders and pulled her up. First to an upright position, then to her feet. She staggered and Parcivale now laid an arm around her middle. "You alright? You got burned pretty badly. You've got some big _jadra_ I have to admit." Despite her obvious pain, she managed a thin little smile. "Are you telling me I've got big balls? You do realize I'm a woman, don't you Hammer?" Parcivale returned her smile and was happy to hear she called him by his name. He had sent Janina away because Helena might kill her outright, but he wasn't too sure that he was in the safe himself. The moment passed. "Where's the staff?" Keita asked him on a far more serious tone. Parcivale pointed at the weapon laying a bit further. "And where's your boss?" Again Parcivale pointed, this time at the body with smashed-in skull. Keita frowned. "How?"

Parcivale held his breath for a second and considered lying. He was pretty sure that Keita wouldn't like it when she would hear that he had used the staff himself. But he really hadn't got a good explanation for a corpse without GSW's and him being a alive at the same time. "I disarmed him and killed him with his own weapon." Parcivale wondered what was going to happen now. The good thing was that she was pretty much harmless at this point. With two bust arms she wasn't gonna slice him up any time soon. But even so, she might still turn hostile. And although he could easily kill her now, he really wasn't sure if that would be the right way to resolve the situation. In his experience, for every enforcer you put to the ground, another two turned up on your turf. Parcivale could only imagine what would happen if you killed an interrogator instead of a quite expendable low hive enforcer. Helena Keita remained silent though, a thoughtful look on her face. "Well?" Parcivale asked.

She looked at him, not angry, nor disappointed. She was simply... evaluating the situation. "It's unfortunate, but not problematic." She pointed at her dagger. "Could you hand me that?" Parcivale felt a bit more suspicious, but went to fetch the power dagger all the same. "And where's my pistol Hammer? You didn't break it, did you? It was quite a rare model." Parcivale picked up the dagger and went looking for the pistols, both Keita's as his. 'At least yours is still loaded.' he thought when he walked back to the interrogator who was leaning against a cogitator station that had somehow survived the entire battle without taking a single hit. "I'll need the holster as well, friend." she said. Parcivale felt his choler rising. Around them, there were still Jesters who were dying. He couldn't do very much for them. In fact, he had just sent the only person who had a few notions of medicae training away. But it still stung that Keita was almost jousting about her frigging weapons when his gang members, some of which he had worked with pretty closely for many cycles, were perishing as they spoke. "I ditched it on the roof." he said. He turned his back at the interrogator and picked up a hatchet and went over to the first body on the floor. He then checked whether the woman, laying on her belly, still lived. She still breathed, but when Parcivale turned her on her back, he saw how she had been hit by a mutant's axe resulting in a bashed in ribcage.

"You..." Keita begun, but Parcivale cut her off, just like he cut the life of the Jester short. "I know." He stood back up, wiping the woman's blood of the blade on her clothes. He went looking for the next ganger. Every mutant he passed also got an axe to the neck... several times, until they were effectively decapitated. "Can't be too sure with these muties." he commented as he felt Keita's eyes in his back. He ended another four lives of Jesters that were wounded too badly to be saved. He kept telling himself that he was putting them out of their misery, especially when the last one opened his eyes and met Parcivale's gaze, reproach in his eyes. Helena left him to it and was limping towards the exit, which meant the salvation of the next man he found. The Jester was partly covered by a mutant's body and had been cut in the leg, but apparently the femoral artery hadn't been hit. Parcivale didn't know why the man hadn't continued the fight and normally he wouldn't have given half a copper for the life of a man who wouldn't fight, but here, amidst all the corpses, the de facto death of the Jesters, he no longer cared about that. There and then, he only wanted to save as much of them as possibly, which granted, wasn't a whole lot. He laid the hatchet aside and hastily pulled the belt from the man's trousers. A few seconds later, an improvised tourniquet would probably save the man's life. He couldn't do anything else. Parcivale already feared that Keita would notice what he was doing. He lifted the hatchet and slammed it down into the mutant's body laying over the man. Then, he quickly got up and looked for another comrade in arms, but he didn't find any others he could save. He felt sad even as he thought that he shouldn't care, rationalizing that they were responsable for their own demise for following Nowak blindly. But his heart wasn't in it. He knew all too well that if he hadn't been part of Nowak's personal guard, he would have been here as well. Or perhaps slaughtered back at the Jester's den.

He climbed up the ladder in the middle of the room to retrieve Keita's holster, before joining the interrogator at the exit of the control room. "Aren't you forgetting anything?" she asked, slinging the holster with the bolt pistol around her neck, biting down the pain as she used her ruined arm. Parcivale looked at her questioningly, wondering what the woman wanted this time. He was just about to protest that he wasn't her errant boy, when she pointed at the staff. "That'll have to come too and as you can see, I'm hardly in a position to carry it." Parcivale turned around and looked at the staff. "I... I don't think I feel comfortable touching that again, ..." He looked back at the interrogar. "You can call me Helena when we're alone. Otherwise it's interrogator Keita." she said, before falling silent. "I know I'm not in a good position to make demands at the moment, but you'll have to stick with me for the time being, Hammer." She shrugged. "I'm sure that if you think it over, you'll agree with me." Parcivale looked at the staff again, not quite ready to discuss or ponder his future. His plan had been to ditch Keita and find Whisper and Jay again, but beyond that, he had no idea what he should do. So instead of answering her, he went back for the staff. "You sure I'm not gonna get all..." Parcivale asked, not really sure what the word he was looking for. "Weird?" offered Helena. She shook her head. Not immediately and if you stick with me, we'll take care of you Hammer." Parcivale stopped beside the staff. "Take care of me?" he asked, the double meaning clear. Keita didn't smile. "It won't be pleasureable, but your soul will be safe."

Parcivale picked up the staff and muttered softly that his soul never had been safe to begin with. In the meanwhile, Keita had turned around and was making her way down the stairs, coiling towards the ground against the inside of the silo. Parcivale followed her out of the room, the staff in one hand, staying a few steps behind her. He re-evaluated the threat the woman posed. She had her dagger in the small scabbard at her belt on her back, but her bolt pistol was unloaded if she could even lift the heavy sidearm. Her pace was unsteady, so her descend was slow. She didn't look up when he closed the distance to her, apparently trusting him to follow her. "So, what do you mean with 'my soul being safe'? I wasn't under the impression it was at risk." Parcivale asked. She laughed rather cynically in reply. "Your soul is always in danger, ..." She left her words trailing, but Parcivale didn't think about giving her his real name. "Hammer." he said. She chuckled but didn't look up. "Ok. Hammer... Laying your hands on evil artefacts isn't really the best way to minimize the risks." She took another few steps before continuing. "Then why am I carrying this, Helena?" Parcivale asked, his voice reflecting how he felt about the interrogator letting him do the dirty work. He almost wanted to throw the staff down the stairs and for a moment he didn't really care whether the interrogator would trip and break her neck on the steps in the process. "Because that's your new job. Welcome to the Inquisition, Hammer. You're hired."


	15. Chapter 15: Those that get left behind

Janina looked at her companion. "The frig is he going?" she asked. The man next to her shrugged. "I suppose off world, Jay. If I could, I would too." She shook her head and took another look through the stolen magnoculars from behind the cargocrates serving as their hiding spot. The noise and backwash of a heavy freighter shuttle made further communication impossible, so the two Jesters just watched how Hammer marched towards a small Arvus lighter. He was accompanied by the woman Janina had seen twice before and another three men in black carapace armour. Hammer was carrying a long, rectangular metal box. "I bet that _zgnite_ staff is in there." She frowned. Whisper just sighed and felt at his belly. His wounds were still clipped together with two dozen flesh staples. "Nothing we can do Jay. Let's just thank him for his generosity. Without his coin I wouldn't even be here." Janina felt her ire rising. She wanted to understand what had happened. After Hammer had sent her away, she had went to the hideout at the LC-station and with Parcivale's thrones she had found a _lekartz_ willing to patch Whisper up. The man had been extremely pale, all colour had disappeared from his face and his arms had been convulsively wrapped around the wound in his lower abdomen. They had stayed there for two days, waiting for Hammer to turn up. He had never shown up. Even though the Jesters were gone - the other Kraskow gangs were already busy taking over the territory - Whisper's contact network still functioned. They soon found out Hammer had disappeared to the mid hive, but after spending, according to Whisper, far too much coin on it, they had retraced his steps to an inconspicuous motel near the space port. The two gangers had managed to stay low and keep tabs on the motel for the next day. That evening they had spotted Hammer with his present company heading over to the space port. Now, they saw him stopping at the lower end of the ramp of the lighter.

"What if he's being forced to go with?" Janina asked Whisper. The other man shrugged. "What if he is? We can't do very much about it, can we?" Janina threw him an angry look. Rather annoyed Whisper berated her. "You've got the magnoculars Jay. Surely you can see that they have all the fire power they could wish for while we don't even have a friggin laslock. _Gluypid_ girl." Janina ignored him and looked back through the magnoculars. Before Whisper could stop her, she put her fingers in her mouth and whisled sharply, a two note tune the Jesters had used to call upon each other. Hammer didn't look up though and neither did the woman or the other men. Instead the woman marched onto the ramp and into the lighter. Hammer followed her, but stopped halfway, putting down the box he carried. He put his hands in his back and stretched, meanwhile gesturing the other three men to pass him. When they passed he crouched to pick up the box again. At that point he turned sideways and looked right at Janina's and Whisper's hiding place. He gave them a single nod, a sad smile on his face. Then he marched further up the ramp out of their view, the ramp closing behind him, leaving the last two of his friends to fend for themselves.

* * *

Author's note:

So, this story is at an end. Some of you might wonder what happened with Njed, the bookkeeper and betrayer of the Jesters. But this story isn't really about him, nor is it on the fate of the Jesters. Faced with his current situation, I don't think Hammer would still care about finding Njed and making him pay for what he did. It might be another story for Janina, but she's not the one I focused this story on, so I guess it'll be a bit of a loose end.

I hope you enjoyed what you read. Comments are still very welcome. I'd really like to know whether you liked what you read. If you did, I will shamelessly point you to two other stories I've written. One about a member of the Adeptus Arbite (long read!) and another about a socially inept techpriest (rather short read).

I've got another sword in the fire; a story about a pilot of the Aeronautica Imperialis which is a bit more classic (as in classic for the kind of Warhammer 40k stories you can find around here). Hope I'll be able to welcome you to that story as well.


End file.
